


The Housemates

by FatZorro



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatZorro/pseuds/FatZorro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU where the whole gang lives in a big house together and does dumb happy family stuff. A series of short stories, drabbles and scenelets following their experiences together without much connecting plot. Established pairings are Jean/Marco and Ymir/Krista, and Reiner/Bertholdt has been left completely ambiguous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What better way to kick things off than with the dawn of a new day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know the explanation of how they got the house is ridiculous but I just want them to all to live in a big house okay and if you're reading this then so do YOU so let's just live with it

 Calm, sleepy silence filled the house. It was late in the night, and the light of the TV flickered across the faces of the three youths in the living room. Eren was lying on both of them, his legs on Armin’s lap and his head on Mikasa’s, as they sat on the couch, inattentively watching a nature documentary about leopards. They had it playing on low volume, though none of them were still alert enough to absorb it.

Mikasa let out a single, soft laugh. “Look. He’s asleep already,” she said, nodding to Armin. Eren’s eyes were closed and he was taking deep, peaceful breaths.

“No I’m not,” he mumbled, frowning slightly.

Armin yawned. “No, but you’ve got the right idea.” He lay down sideways, placing his head on Eren’s chest and closing his eyes. Eren smiled and rested his hand on Armin’s back.

“Good night Eren. Good night Mikasa.”

“Night, Armin.”

“Sleep well.”

Eren shifted his head on Mikasa’s lap. “Night, Mikasa.”

“Good night, Eren.”

Taking the remote from the table beside her, she shut off the TV. Silence settled in the room as moonlight streamed through the window.

Mikasa waited until both of the boys were taking slow, regular breaths, making sure they were asleep, before lying down and putting her arms around both of them, drifting into sleep herself.

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

The morning light was tinted golden-orange from the rising sun. Outside the air was crisp and cold, but inside the house it was warm enough to match the light.

Marco quietly opened the door and stepped into the kitchen, allowing the invigorating sunlight to rinse the last remnants of sleepiness from his mind. As he stepped toward the cupboard something caught his attention in the corner of his eye.

He turned to Jean who came through the doorway behind him, rubbing his eyes.

“Shhh. Look,” he whispered, putting a finger to his lips.

The kitchen opened right into the spacious living room with no walls dividing them, affording Jean and Marco a view of the three sleeping forms snuggled together on the couch.

Jean allowed himself a half smile, crossing his arms. “Isn’t that just fucking cute.”

“Those guys really have something special,” Marco smiled, getting out two bowls and spoons and reaching for the cereal. “I’ve never seen such a close bond between three friends.”

“What about Bert, Reiner and Annie?”

Marco raised an eyebrow. “Reiner and Bertholdt are more than friends and you know it.”

Jean scoffed, pouring the milk into the two bowls and they sat. “Are you kidding me? Reiner _reeks_ of heterosexuality.”

“You’re crazy.”

“One of these days we’re gonna settle this once and for all,” Jean mused, lifting a spoonful of cereal to his lips.

They sat at the kitchen table in comfortable silence for a few moments, chewing quietly on their breakfast.

“Think we should wake them up?” Jean asked.

“No, let them sleep. They look so peaceful.”

Jean and Marco smiled warmly over at their slumbering friends.

Then the kitchen door slammed open, banging against the wall and making the two boys jump.

Ymir stood hunched and wraith-like in the doorway, bags under her dead eyes.

“ _I need coffee,_ ” she rasped.

Armin, Mikasa and Eren were up now, blinking blearily and wondering what had woken them.

Marco sighed before perking back up. “Good morning, Ymir!”

“Suck a dick.”

She dragged herself to the coffee machine and took a mug out of the cupboard as the three recently awoken friends sat themselves at the table, their hair messy and their clothes rumpled from being slept in.

“What time is it?” Armin mumbled wearily.

“About seven. Up late last night?” Jean asked.

“We decided to watch a movie. I don’t think we even finished half of it, though.” He yawned, stretching his arms above his head.

Mikasa rubbed an eye. “I had no idea leopards could carry such heavy prey up trees like that.”

Eren looked up at Ymir, who was fumbling with the buttons on the coffee maker. “So what’s got you up at this cheery hour, Ymir?”

“Good morning everyone!”

They all turned to see Krista in the doorway, practically sparkling with cheerfulness. Her hair was sleek and perfectly brushed, her makeup was light but expertly applied, and her skin was radiant.

“I swear she just wakes up looking like that,” Ymir grumbled.

She bounced giddily into the kitchen. “Are you ready for our first morning jog, Ymir?”

“ _Please just kill me._ ”

Krista tisked disapprovingly before taking a skillet from the rack. “Who wants eggs?” she chirped. Armin, Eren and Mikasa raised their hands. “Sunnyside up, right?” They nodded.

“Aren’t you vegetarian, Krista?” Mikasa inquired.

“Ovatarian. I don’t eat any animal that’s been slaughtered. Eggs are fine.”

Jean and Marco got up and put away their empty bowls while the three still at the table murmured to each other. Ymir waited desperately for her coffee, eyes boring into the gurgling pot.

For a while the kitchen was quiet aside from Krista humming over the sound of the sizzling pan.

The eggs were done around the same time as Ymir’s coffee and she, Marco and Krista sat at the table to eat. Jean stayed standing, leaning against the counter behind them.

“So what does everyone’s day look like?” Krista asked. “Ymir and I are going for a jog, then coming back to the house for aerobics. Then we’re off to the library to pick up some reading material and heading out to lunch afterwards. Then we’re visiting Ymir’s grandparents for tea and dinner before coming back home to do some more evening aerobics, some embroidering and then bedtime!”

“She embroiders, I just watch,” Ymir clarified hastily.

“How about the rest of you?”

“Mikasa and I are going for a drive,” said Eren, “I need to practice now that I’ve finally got my N.”

“What about you, Armin?” Krista rested her chin on her fist, listening intently.

“I’m gonna be studying for my entrance exam pretty much all day. I’m hoping to get early acceptance for next year.”

Marco smiled as Krista turned to him. “I’m working until three today, then Jean and I have dance class.”

Eren smiled down at his forkful of egg. “Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay,” he muttered. Armin swatted the back of his head.

Krista smiled, ignoring Eren’s tasteless humour. “Oh, fun! What kind of dance?”

“It’s a variety class. We’re working on swing right now, but we’ve already done some salsa and ballroom.”

“Marco kept stepping on my feet during the Salsa lessons.”

He blushed. “I’m no good with latin beats, I get all jumbled.”

There was a loud thud and they all looked over at Ymir with a start. Her forehead was on the table next to her mug of coffee and she was snoring quietly.

Krista shook her shoulder. “Oh come on, Ymir, you need this!”

She grumbled sleepily and they all laughed. It had turned brighter as the sun rose higher in the sky, overlooking the slowly awakening forms within the house.

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

Mr. Pixis had been the best teacher any of the members of homeroom 104 had ever had. Sir Wallace Rose Secondary was a very small school, and the senior class of 2013 had only had twelve people in it, all twelve students being placed in Mr. Pixis’ homeroom during their first year. Over the next four years they bonded closely with the man, who had also taught them Math and English.

He was known as an incurable eccentric with an incomprehensible teaching style. His students had fond memories of him coming into class with the answers to a pop quiz on the back of his bald head and pretending he hadn’t noticed, or the time he decided to hold English in the boiler room without telling anyone, leaving his students confused in a teacherless classroom. Sasha was the only one who’d decided to go look for him, and upon finding him she was also the only one who didn’t receive an unexcused absence that day.

People called him crazy, and his students didn’t disagree. Whatever he did, however, somehow worked. They had never met anyone who could capture their attention like he could; he had a way of speaking that made you remember every word he said. Even Connie managed to pass pre-calculus with Mr. Pixis’ help. A true miracle, that was.

However, no amount of crazy could have prepared the students of homeroom 104 for their graduation gift: a house. A leftover set from some local reality show that had failed to take off, the house sat in the heart of town, had six two-person bedrooms (each with its own bathroom), a workout room, a small art studio, a library, a pool and a hot tub. The house itself was owned and completely paid for by Mr. Pixis, and all utilities had been paid for the next five years. He had presented the house to them, given a brief explanation (although he refused to reveal exactly _how_ he had acquired the house), said that it was about time for him to retire, and disappeared without a trace, leaving a dozen baffled teenagers with a giant house all to themselves.

They’d only had the house for about three and a half months, and they were still trying to wrap their heads around what the hell had happened. Mr. Pixis had mentioned that he wanted them all to stay together after graduating and not drift apart like most high school friends tend to do, but this seemed extreme. Still, none of them were going to turn down the chance to live in a big house with all their friends for free.

They all generally agreed that once the five years of paid utilities were over, the experience would end. Unless most of them had stable, well-paid careers going by then it was unlikely that they’d be able to pay the expenses to keep the house, and it wasn’t like they could all live together forever.

But until those five years were over, they were all going to wake up in the same house together, every day.

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

Sasha took a peek at the room’s other bed. Connie was still asleep, his torso uncovered by the blankets. She cheered internally, eyes flashing. _Perfect_.

Gently placing her feet on the floor, she rose, sneaking out of the room. Excitement already bubbling in her stomach, she hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen. This needed to be done quickly, before Connie woke up.

It was 10:15. The kitchen and living room were empty, though she noticed that someone had already made coffee. She took a bowl from the cupboard and turned on the sink. Already an uncontrollable, maniacal grin was taking over her face; she’d been waiting for weeks to do this. Once the bowl was filled with warm water she rushed back upstairs, being careful not to spill. She re-entered her and Connie’s room, closing the door with a soft _click_ and tiptoeing over to his bed.

Sasha knelt down beside him, clutching the bowl. Her face was inches away from his, and she tried as hard as she could not to burst out giggling. She gingerly took his wrist and brought it towards the bowl…

Connie’s eyes opened slowly, still drowsy. Then they widened as he took in the grinning face that was practically nose-to-nose with his. His mouth opened slightly.

Sasha froze. They maintained a moment of silent, surprised eye contact. A single bead of sweat rolled down her forehead.

“Good moooooorniiiiiing,” she whispered.

“Uh?!” came the strangled, terrified response.

She stood quickly, whipping the bowl behind her back and spilling water on her heels.

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t sleeping in! Come on, up and at ‘em!”

Connie lay paralyzed in his bed as Sasha scurried out of the room backwards, still keeping a frantic smile on her face.

 _Next time_ , she thought.

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

Annie was awake before her eyes were open. She stared into the deep red of her eyelids and lay motionless, feeling the warm blankets cradling her body. She took a few deep breaths, allowing her muscles a few more moments of relaxed comfort.

Then she opened her eyes and sat up, swinging her legs out from beneath the covers in one fluid motion, before springing to her feet. She stretched her arms up and out, then her hamstrings and calves. She banished the subtle urge to return to bed from her mind; the time for rest was over, and it was time to start the day.

She dropped to the floor and began her morning push-ups, her back perfectly rigid. She noticed in the corner of her eye that Mikasa’s bed was empty. She doubted the other girl had gotten up before her, which meant she never made it back to their room the previous night. Annie would wonder about that later.

She blew out her breaths in sharp puffs, feeling the taught, expert muscles in her arms working like hydraulic pumps. Her movements practiced and precise, and by the time she hit fifty Annie hadn’t even broken a sweat.

She turned over and lay on her back, knees up and hands behind her head. One sit-up, two sit-ups, three, four, five… the powerful muscles in her core burned as they tightened and relaxed. Again she counted all the way to fifty and allowed herself to lie on the ground for a few moments, huffing. Now she was sweating.

Annie got up and walked leisurely to the bathroom, brushing her blonde hair from her face. She opened the mirrored cabinet and took out dental floss, toothpaste, her toothbrush and mouthwash. Taking care of her teeth was as important as taking care of any other part of her body. She flossed carefully, watching her work intently in the mirror. Then she brushed in small, exact circles, making sure to clean the area where her teeth and gums met. She took a swig of bitter mouthwash and swished it before gargling and spitting into the sink.

Annie checked the time. 5:30. The sun hadn’t even begun to rise yet, and the moon and stars were shining brighter than ever in the cold fall night sky. She dressed quickly and slipped out of the room. She ghosted through the hallway, her footsteps not making a single sound. She didn’t like having other people awake and active at this time. The early morning— the _really_ early morning— was _her_ time. She didn’t know why, but she liked it that way, and waking anyone else up spoiled her feeling of independent solitude.

Annie descended the stairs to the main floor, keeping the creaking to a minimum. When she entered the kitchen on her way to the front hall, she caught sight of the three people piled onto the couch. So that was why Mikasa hadn’t gone to bed.

She took her eyes off them and headed to the front door, opening the large closet that held all their shoes and coats. It was big, but the space inside was still cramped, and the housemates often fought over coat pegs and space on the shoe rack. Krista had been forced to keep most of her shoes in a trunk by her bed.

Annie removed a large, puffy hooded jacket with woolly lining and wrapped it around herself before tying her sneakers. She spared another glance at Eren, Mikasa and Armin on the couch, then silently opened the door and entered the chilly night air.

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

“Ughhhh” Reiner moaned, clamping his pillow tighter around his ears. It was no use. Bertholdt’s snores were loud enough to shatter glass.

 _I swear it’s that big goddamned nose of his,_ Reiner lamented, glancing at the clock.

He sat bolt upright, a swear sputtering past his lips. He jumped out of bed and threw open the closet doors, hastily pulling his work clothes from the hangers.

He checked in the mirror to make sure his shirt was tucked in properly (he always had trouble with the back) before turning to Bertholdt. The boy was still fast asleep, snores ripping from his open mouth.

Reiner sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose; there wasn’t a soul he knew who slept deeper than Bertholdt. He steeled himself and shook the other boy’s shoulder.

“Bert. Hey, Bert. C’mon, wake up, we’re gonna be late again.”

Bertholdt didn’t move a muscle. Reiner shook harder and leaned in, speaking into his ear.

“Bertholdt. Bertholdt! Yo, Bertie, let’s go!”

Still, nothing.

“Come onnnnn!” Reiner whined in frustration. He stepped up onto the bed and began to jump up and down, jostling the sleeping boy.

“Let’s go! Get up!” Despite this nuisance, he couldn’t help but smile at how ridiculous this was. Still, Bertholdt slumbered.

Reiner pulled out his phone, set the volume to maximum and activated the ringer, holding it to Bertholdt’s ear. He frowned and shifted slightly in his sleep, but the snoring continued.

Reiner put the phone away, then huffed in a massive breath, cupping his hands around his mouth and leaning right into Bert’s face.

“ ** _BERTHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLDT!_** ”

The snores came to a sudden stop, and there was silence. Bertholdt eyes slowly opened, still unfocused. His eyelids drooped for a moment, and then closed. The snoring resumed.

Reiner slapped his palms against his face, growling in frustration.

 _Okay, this has gone on long enough_ , he thought, stomping over to the bathroom. He filled a cup with water and marched back into the room, stopping in front of the other boy.

He jerked the cup forward, throwing the water in Bertholdt’s face. The snoring turned into choking and spitting as Bertholdt scrambled into a sitting position, finally awake.

“Reiner w-what the hell?” he spluttered, blinking furiously and wiping the blankets across his sodden face.

“Get your clothes on. We’re going to be late.”

Bertholdt looked over at the clock and gasped.

“Why the hell didn’t you wake me up?”

Reiner just grumbled and left the room, heading downstairs for breakfast.


	2. Fun Facts/Floor Plan Diagram!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Housemate Fun Facts Time! I've also added a hand-drawn diagram of how I envision the layout of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry about the picture quality, I did the best I could. I also probably left out a lot of important furniture and stuff, but it's more meant to be a pretty basic blueprint.

It doesn’t happen often, but Eren _loves_ to cuddle with Armin.

 

Mikasa has never set foot in a McDonald’s, and never will.

 

Armin has arranged dozens of glow-in-the-dark star stickers on the ceiling above his bed, and he looks up at them every night before he goes to sleep, thinking of outer space.

 

Marco has freckles in three places: his face, his shoulders, and his butt. Jean tends to laugh when he sees the butt freckles, which has killed the mood in more than one intimate situation.

 

Jean _hates_ it when people mispronounce his name. (And exactly which pronunciation is the correct one is up to _you_ , dear reader!)

 

Sasha had a lisp as a child, and it comes back up every now and then. She gets very flustered when people make fun of it.

 

In high school Connie decided he was going to be a skater kid. He tried skateboarding once. After the surgery was done, he decided it would probably be wise to pick a different hobby.

 

Krista loves to ride her bicycle more than anything. She wants to get a tandem bike for her and Ymir, but Ymir has staunchly refused (she’ll cave eventually.)

 

Ymir can play guitar like nobody’s business. Walking past her and Krista’s room one can usually hear her noodling around, casually strumming out expert riffs.

 

Bertholdt is really, really ticklish. It’s one of his best-kept secrets.

 

Annie’s father gave her a ring when she was little, and she wears it every single day on her right index finger. When she gets tense she subconsciously rubs the underside of the ring with her thumb.

 

Reiner was born ambidextrous, but after a serious wrist injury from a tennis match when he was 11, he now favours his right hand.

 

* * *

 

Diagram:

 


	3. Bedtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's look at some nightime rituals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thank you to tumblr users emylisis and hydrazoite for being my crack editing team! Also they made sure my blog didn't look like utter shit yaaaaay (it's fatzorro.tumblr.com if you were wondering)

Twice a week they would all eat together. Every Wednesday morning, since no one had to work early, Krista and Marco would put together a big pancake breakfast and everyone would sit and eat at the kitchen table, no matter what. There was a much fancier dining room adjacent to the kitchen, but they all agreed that it felt much more comfortable and homey to eat in the kitchen itself.

Since all the housemates had their own schedules, they didn’t have many opportunities to spend time all together as a group. Marco and Krista had declared that it was important for them all to have “family time” with each other, and thus they started the Wednesday pancake breakfast.

Not long afterwards, the housemates discovered that Sunday evenings were free for all of them, and so that night was designated as “family dinner night”, where Sasha, Reiner and Armin would put together a feast for the whole house.

 

“ _It’s readyyyyyyy!_ ” Sasha bounded into the hallway, calling up the staircase and undoing her apron. She was satisfied to hear doors opening on the floor above, and footsteps hurrying towards the stairs.

Armin was putting the last of the knives and forks on the table when Eren entered the kitchen, Ymir, Krista, and Marco with Jean tailing him excitedly. Mikasa followed after a few moments.

“Annie will be down in a few minutes; she’s finishing her workout,” she said as she sat down alongside everyone else.

“That girl needs to take it easy once in a while,” Reiner remarked, hanging up his apron.

Sasha pursed her lips. “Mikasa, do you have to wear your scarf at the dinner table?”

“Is that a problem?”

“It’s bad manners, isn’t it?”

“What would you know about manners?” Connie snickered. Sasha whipped him with her napkin, and Mikasa’s scarf stayed where it was.

“Come on, I’m starving. What have we got?” Jean complained.

Sasha proudly took the lid off one of the dishes. “I made steamed kale with garlic and olive oil! Here we also have a vinaigrette salad with cherry tomatoes, onions and raisins.”

Jean grimaced and made a disappointed noise. Marco shot him a chastising look before leaning in.

“That looks amazing, Sasha!” he said. The girl beamed.

Reiner placed another dish on the table. “There’s also pork roast here, with gravy and rice. Not too fancy, but it should be tasty.” The roast did indeed look mouth-watering.

They all turned to Armin, who smiled. “And I made dessert tonight. There’s a batch of brownies in the oven.” He was met with an approving cheer.

They served themselves eagerly, heaping steaming piles of food onto their plates while they chatted amongst themselves.

Jean lifted a forkful of rice to his mouth, but Sasha cut him off.

“Don’t start until Annie gets here!”

“But I’m hungry…”

Sasha scowled and Jean put down the fork, grumbling.

“Yeah, you _barbarian_ ,” Connie taunted, “What are we, animals?”

Sasha punched him in the shoulder this time. She tended to get wound up after a long evening of cooking, but she would settle down once she had some food in her.

Finally Annie sauntered into the kitchen, sweating from exercise. She collapsed into a chair next to Reiner, inhaled the scent of the food and let out a deep breath.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” said Jean.

“Sorry about that,” was all she said in reply.

Mikasa brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I told them you were working out.”

Annie nodded her thanks and began to serve herself.

For the longest time, everyone had thought that Annie and Mikasa hated each other. They both shared that serious intensity, and their rivalry was fierce to the point of being frightening. Any time the two were placed in a competitive setting the contention between them was palpable, and on the few occasions they sparred together in the exercise room one could practically see sparks flying from each blow.

As the years went on and the two girls spent time around each other without any actual fights or conflicts breaking out, everyone decided that they must have developed a grudging tolerance for one another.

When they had opted to share a room together in the house, naturally the whole group had been baffled. No one could figure out why, and more than one person brought up the theory that they were both plotting to murder the other in her sleep.

Finally a revelation came to them: Annie and Mikasa had a profound, mutual respect for one another. With this, the group admitted their presumptions to them, and the girls were shocked to hear what everyone thought had been going on with them for the past four years. They explained that they used each other to measure their own abilities. Both of them revelled in testing her skill against someone she knew was just as talented as herself, and since neither of them were very outwardly affectionate, no one had been able to see the friendship that had grown beneath all the competitiveness.

“Hey Jean,” Eren beckoned, “I bet you five dollars I can chug this water faster than you can.”

“Hah! You’re on.”

Krista held out her hands. “You guys, wait—”

“ ** _Go!_** ”

Jean and Eren lifted their glasses to their faces and began to gulp furiously.

“Jean!” Marco exclaimed, grabbing his shoulder in distress as water dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt. Reiner and Ymir laughed, while Armin and Mikasa just sighed and shook their heads.

Jean and Eren’s rivalry was similar to that of Annie and Mikasa, except for the first year that the boys had known one another they actually _had_ hated each other. Back then neither one could be in the same room as the other without a fight breaking out, much to the group’s chagrin. However, sharing a homeroom and a friend group in a tiny school forced them to come to terms with each other, and after several drunken heart-to-hearts at various parties the boys had resolved their differences, and now considered each other to be close friends. Their competitive streak had remained, though, and they often invented spontaneous little contests without warning.

“ _Hah!_ ” Eren cried, pounding his glass back down on the table. Jean coughed and spilled more water on himself.

Eren wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “I thought you’d be better at swallowing big loads, _Jean_.”

Marco blushed, mortified, and Jean grit his teeth. “That’s not how you pronounce my name, asshole. It’s _Jean_.”

“Sorry, what was that? _Jean_?”

“That’s not it either! It’s _Jean_ , not _Jean_!”

“Will you both just shut up and eat,” Mikasa growled. The fact that both Jean and Eren were very easily frustrated did nothing to douse their unending competition.

The dinner table was relatively peaceful after that. They joked and laughed and chatted amongst themselves, enjoying the plentiful food that had been prepared for them.

It wasn’t long before Krista pulled everyone in for a group conversation. She leaned forward and placed her palms flat on the table.

“So I know that Marco, Jean and Annie want to join the police force, but what about the rest of you? What are you guys all planning to do?”

The individual conversations died down as they all looked at each other, thinking. They’d all discussed their life ambitions with each other at various times, but never all together as a group. Presently, none of them were in post-secondary school; they’d agreed to take a year off to enjoy the house together.

“Reiner? How about you?” Krista prompted.

He smiled and put his arm around the boy next to him. “Bertholdt and I are gonna start a Moving business.” They were met with murmurs of surprise and approval. “We helped a couple neighbours move a few years back, and it was actually a really cool experience.”

“It’s rewarding,” Bertholdt chimed in, “People are really grateful. You get to know them too, handling all their belongings and treasures like that. We heard a couple great stories while we were at it.”

“That’s wonderful, you guys!” Krista beamed, “You’ll be great at it!” She then looked expectantly at Connie, who was apparently next in line.

“Well, I’m not entirely sure yet,” he said, inspecting a forkful of rice, “but I’m thinking of going into teaching.”

Eren nearly spewed his water, and a few laughs went around the table. “The kids’ll be smarter than you are!”

“Yeah, well they say teaching is a learning experience…”

Ymir, unable to muffle her laughs any longer, began guffawing, earning a disapproving pout from Krista. When her girlfriend wouldn’t stop laughing, she scowled.

“Ymir wants to be a model,” Krista said loudly, resting her chin on her palm.

Instantly Ymir choked on her laughter, turning red and slamming her hand on the table. “No I don’t! Krista, why would you say something like that?!”

“It’s true. She won’t tell anyone but me, because she thinks it’s silly. However, _I_ think that nobody should be ashamed of their profession.” She looked pointedly at Connie.

“She’s lying!”

“I think you’d be a good model, Ymir.”

The table went silent and they all looked at Annie. She took a sip of water, her expression as inscrutable as ever. “You have a good face for it.”

Ymir blushed slightly, stunned. “Uh… Thanks, Annie.” She leaned back. “I mean… it’s not like that’s the _only_ thing I want to do, it’s just an option. I might go into business as well.” She blushed further, feeling the eyes of the table on her. “Krista, tell ‘em what you’re gonna do.”

“I want to be an actress!” she bubbled, “I would love to be in some real old-style movies. I’m a big fan of the classics; Gone with the Wind, Casablanca, that kind of stuff.” No one at the table could doubt that Krista indeed had the face of a movie star. “Maybe if I get famous enough I can start my own charity. That would be a dream come true for me.”

Her genuine sweetness made them all smile, as it always did. Before they could move on to Mikasa, however, Sasha, who was seated between Connie and Ymir, jumped in, not happy about being skipped over.

“I’m going to be a nutritional scientist!” she proclaimed proudly. This garnered a few raised eyebrows and chuckles from the table.

Jean snickered. “Access to all the free food you want, eh, Sasha?”

“Huh?”

“Maybe you’ll invent something that’ll actually fill you up so you’ll stop stuffing your face.”

Sasha looked around as her friends laughed. “What? No!” She smiled slightly at her plate, fiddling with her knife.

“You guys know that I wasn’t exactly the richest kid in the world growing up…”

The laughter died down, and they brought their full attention to her.

“My dad did what he could, but sometimes there were just days when I couldn’t eat. Food prices keep going up. It was hard not to resort to eating McDonald’s every day, like some families have to.”

She looked back up. “My dad taught me about the value of good food, and good nutrition. He taught me all about the food groups and vitamins and minerals… he wanted me to know what was in everything I was eating. He wanted me to savour every mouthful, and appreciate what it was giving to my body.

“I want to find more ways to grow nutritious, affordable foods that can be made readily available to low-income families. I know what it’s like to go to bed with an empty stomach, and I don’t want any more kids to have to go through that.”

Everyone stared at Sasha in admiration, stunned and sobered. Jean felt his cheeks burn, feeling thoroughly ashamed of his comments. “Sorry, Sasha…” he mumbled.

She smiled at him and giggled. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’ll find plenty of opportunities to stuff my face as well.”

They all laughed, good humour restored.

“What about you, Mikasa?” Krista asked as the focus shifted to the other end of the table. She noticed that Eren was looking increasingly uncomfortable as his turn approached.

“I might join the force with Annie, Marco and Jean. Or I might do private security.”

“Like a bodyguard?” said Reiner. Mikasa nodded.

A few more quiet chuckles went round as they glanced at Eren, who was looking even more uncomfortable.

Marco beside him took notice and quickly shifted the attention over.

“So Armin, you’re taking sciences in university next year, right?”

Armin nodded. “Theoretical physics, to be exact.”

“I see… and what exactly does a theoretical physicist do?”

Instantly one could see the boy’s eyes light up. He tried to downplay it, but everyone could see the passion shining through as he spoke.

“Basically a theoretical physicist is someone who tries to figure out how the universe works. They ask the fundamental questions of nature. Why do stars shine? Why is water fluid? What are we made of? They come up with theories and hypotheses, and work with experimental physicists, who come up with tests to try and prove them.

“It’s a really broad subject, so most people choose specializations. I’m going to specialize in outer space.”

He rested his chin in his palms, his eyes shining like silver coins. “There’s just so much out there in the universe, so much beyond the confines of this world, and we know so woefully little about it. Theoretical physicists are the ones who make the really big discoveries, the ones that change the way we think about things. Well, that’s what I want to do. I mean… who knows what’s out there that could blow away everything we think we know about life?”

“If anyone’s gonna prove the existence of space aliens, it’s Armin,” Connie enthused.

Armin sat back, smiling, and silence hung over the table as they all sat, enthralled by his passionate speech. Eren was staring into space just past Armin’s head, apparently deep in thought.

“Well,” Krista chirped after a moment, “What about you Eren?”

He shook out of his ruminations, looking like he’d had water splashed on his face. He flushed and looked down, embarrassed.

“I… well, I…”

Everyone leaned in expectantly.

“I… I have no idea.” Eren rubbed his arm.

Eyes widened and eyebrows flew up in disbelief.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Jean, “ _You_ don’t know what you want to do with your life? _You, Eren Jaeger,_ don’t have a specific goal in mind?!”

“Shut up!” Eren snapped frantically, “I just need more time to think about it, that’s all!”

“But you don’t even have any ideas?” Krista’s eyebrows were knit together with concern. “Come on, there has to be something!”

“You were always great in woodshop,” Reiner piped up, “you made the best damn stool in the class!”

“Yeah, that was alright, but…”

“My dad’s a carpenter, Eren!” said Connie, “It’s a great job! You’d love it.”

“It’s fun, I guess! But it’s not something I want to do for the rest of my life.”

“Well then what is?” Sasha asked.

Eren sunk deeper into his chair.

Mikasa raised her voice. “Eren doesn’t know what he wants to do yet and that’s fine. Not everyone has their entire career planned straight out of high school.”

“Mikasa’s right,” said Marco, “us interrogating Eren isn’t going to help at all.” He put an encouraging hand on Eren’s shoulder. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

He didn’t feel like he’d ever figure it out at all.

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

_Lucy fainted!_

“Argh! You and that goddamn Manectric!” Sasha cried at her DS, watching her Braviary go down.

They sat cross-legged on their beds, facing each other. Sasha was in her bunny pyjamas and Connie wore a t-shirt and boxers.

“Charge and Thunderbolt, man, you can’t go wrong,” he chortled.

Sasha sneered. “Oh yeah? We’ll see what my Hippowdon has to say about that.”

“Uh-oh.”

They shared a moment of intense eye contact, both of them down to their last pokemon, before tapping away at their screens.

“No, no, no, don’t use earthqua- AAAAAARGH”

Sasha thrust her arms up in the air. “Woohoo! Lucy is avenged! In your _face_!”

“I swear, one of these days I’ll beat you,” Connie sighed.

“Sounds like loser-talk to me.” Sasha got up and stretched her legs. “I have to use the bathroom.”

“’Kay.” Connie absorbed himself in his screen, checking his team’s stats and strategizing for their next showdown. His Manectric needed a better Defence stat. And if he could just get her Hippowdon face-to-face with his Lapras…

Sasha emerged from the bathroom and Connie scowled.

“Gross! Flush the toilet!”

“I didn’t use the toilet,” she said, sitting back down and picking up her DS.

“Then what the hell were you doing in there?”

She eyed him skeptically.

“Well?” he pressed.

“You really don’t know?”

“No! What, were you reapplying your mascara or something?”

“Do you _really_ want me to tell you?”

“Yes!”

Sasha sat on his bed and brought her lips right to his ear.

“ _I was pulling a bloody stick of cotton out of my front butt and replacing it with a pad._ ”

She cackled as Connie fell back, his hand over his mouth.

“Oh my god, Sasha! Ew! Why… why would you…”

“You asked,” she shrugged, moving back to her bed.

“Eugh! Oh god, why do I have to share my room with a girl…”

“Gee, sorry, I didn’t know you were that disgusted by my body.”

That got Connie even more wound up. “What? No! No, no, no, I think your body’s fantastic, I _love_ your body!”

Sasha raised an eyebrow at him and he gulped, realizing what he’d just said.

“Uh… I mean, uh… um…”

She leaned over, smiling, and gave Connie a stiff poke to the nose. “Dork,” she said simply, before sitting back and closing her DS. “Let’s play some Halo.”

Connie blew out a breath. “Yeah, sure.”

They booted up the game and got started on their multiplayer campaign, the conversation lulling.

“What if,” Sasha spoke after a few minutes, “someone gave you a million dollars, okay? _But…_ once a month, for a whole week, every month until your turn fifty, you bleed out of your wang. Would you do it?”

“So basically I get my period out of my dick?”

“Yup.”

Connie pursed his lips, his eyes still glued to the TV. “Hmmmm. Do I get cramps and stuff too, or is it just the blood?”

“The whole works. Just like any other girl’s period, except you’ve got a wiener.”

“Uh… nah, that whole period thing seems like it really sucks.”

“Really? A million dollars and you wouldn’t do it?”

“I’d just spend it all at once, and then I’d be stuck with a bleeding schlong for the next thirty years.”

“You’d spend a million dollars all at once? Connie, you could invest it, or save it or something!”

“This is _me_ we’re talking about, Sasha.”

“Mmm. Right.”

There was a pause in the conversation as they blasted through another level.

“Okay, how ‘bout this,” said Connie, “You get… five million dollars. But every time you have sex, your father sees it in his head. Like, he has a fucking vision or something, and he sees you guys doing the nasty for the entire time.”

Sasha grinned. “Groooooooss. Uhhhhhhh… well with five million dollars, my dad and I would be set. I’m sure he’d understand.” She rested her controller on her lap as they got to the level’s end screen. “Besides… it’s not like it’s something I’ve done before… and it probably won’t be for a while.”

“What isn’t?”

Sasha gave him another look. “Really?”

Connie just raised an eyebrow back at her and she sighed. “Seeeeeeeeeex,” she said slowly.

He blushed. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh. Wait, really? You’ve never had sex with anyone before? Are you serious?”

“Nope. Why are you so surprised?”

“I… well I just… I dunno…”

He put his controller down and brought his knees up to his chin. “I mean… yeah, neither have I.”

Sasha frowned. “What? Wait, wait, wait, I thought you and Hitch…?”

“Oh… heh, yeah that. Uh, well…” He scratched the stubble that lined his scalp.

“At that party? Didn’t you guys, you know, frick frack?”

“Uh, well, yeah we went into a room together, and we were pretty drunk, and we were making out, and then…”

“Then??”

“Well, she unzipped my pants, and she was about to give me a blowjob, and then… well, she just kinda passed out on my lap.”

Sasha blinked, then blew a raspberry laugh from her lips. “Are you _serious_?”

“Yeah.”

“But she told everyone that you guys screwed in there!”

Connie scratched his neck. “Yeah, that’s the other part. The next day I went to her and asked if she could tell people we’d had sex in that room. She agreed on the condition that I tell everyone that she had been amazing.”

Sasha couldn’t contain herself anymore. She clutched her sides, hooting with laughter. “ _She passed out on your lap and you begged her to tell people you guys banged? That’s hilarious!_ ”

“Yeah, yeah…”

“ _That’s pathetic! She must have felt so bad for you!_ ”

“Hey, now! No need to get mean.”

Sasha wiped a tear from her eye, still shaking with laughter.

A door slammed open somewhere in the hallway and stomping footsteps could be heard approaching Connie and Sasha’s room. Someone banged on their door.

“ ** _It’s three-thirty in the goddamn morning! GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP!_** ” came Jean’s muffled voice. The stomping echoed back to the other end of the hall and they heard Jean and Marco’s door slam shut.

“Well, I guess we should call it a night then,” said Connie, shutting off the console and climbing under the covers.

Sasha turned off the lights and collapsed into her own bed. “The next time I see Hitch I’m gonna laugh at both of you so hard.”

“Shut up.”

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

Krista tied her hair back, making sure not a single strand was in her face. Her nightgown had once been plain white, but she had embroidered floral patterns along the hem and collar herself. She seated herself gently at the dressing table, examining her face from all angles in the mirror, and giving a few light prods to her skin. She took a bottle of toner from the table and gave her face a light spritz— to refresh the skin and open the pores— before plucking a cotton pad from the jar and dipping it in a pot of cleanser.

Ymir, meanwhile, lay on their bed, clad only in a pair of men’s boxer shorts. Her hair was splayed out in tendrils, like the roots of a tree, over the pillow and her shoulders, and her guitar was in her hands. Her fingers danced so lightly and effortlessly over the strings, yet the riffs she was playing were expert and complex. She wasn’t playing anything in particular, just “noodling”, as Krista liked to call it; the melody meandered absently, and Ymir wasn’t even watching the strings.

“Will you play me something?” Krista asked, watching Ymir in the mirror as she applied the final touches of cleanser and got started on the facemask.

“I’m playing right now.”

“Play a proper song. Play me something you wrote.”

The noodling stopped as Ymir eyed Krista, her fingers hesitating. Then she propped herself up in a sitting position and began to play again, the melody focused and precise this time. Krista swivelled on her stool, her facemask drying, and enjoyed the sweet notes drifting from the strings.

When the song was done she gave an excited round of applause, beaming, before migrating to the bathroom to remove the mask.

“Thank you, I’ll be here all night,” Ymir muttered, slumping back down on the bed.

After a few minutes Krista returned, her face fresh and bright, then sat back at the dressing table and released her hair. She picked up a brush and began running through the golden tresses.

Ymir lifted her arm and grimaced. “I don’t feel like shaving my pits tomorrow. Do you think I should?”

“If you want,” her partner said, still gliding the brush through her hair. “Do whatever makes you feel beautiful, Ymir.”

Ymir couldn’t help but smile as she lowered her arm, gazing reverently at the other girl. God, she got the warmest feeling whenever Krista talked to her like that, it was nearly unbearable. “How are you so damn perfect,” she said, sitting back up.

“I try,” she giggled.

“Put that brush down and come here.”

Krista got up and stretched, then flicked off the lights and slid onto the bed next to Ymir.

Ymir pulled the covers over both of them and put her arm around Krista’s waist, sliding in close and kissing her cheek.

Krista turned her head and their lips met lightly.

Ymir’s hand moved down to her hip and the kiss went from light to passionate.

“Ymir!” Krista gasped as Ymir’s lips went down to her neck. Now her other hand was on her thigh, travelling upward…

Krista’s fist clenched and her voice trembled. “ _Ymir!_ ”

Ymir froze and her eyes opened.

“S-sorry,” Krista stammered, “I just don’t…”

“It’s okay,” she said softly, removing her hands, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t go so far without asking first.”

Krista took a deep breath, settling herself. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t enjoyed it when we _have_ … I just don’t always… I mean I usually don’t—”

“Krista,” Ymir propped herself up on one elbow, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I understand.” She planted another light, innocent kiss on Krista’s cheek. “I just like being intimate with you.”

“I guess I prefer verbal intimacy.”

Ymir lay back down. “Oh yeah? And how do you like to be verbally intimate…” she paused, her eyes shining, “…Historia?”

The shift was as obvious as the temperature in the room suddenly dropping. Krista’s features iced over and she turned to face away from her partner. “Do not call me that,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically hard.

Ymir bit her lip and frustration pulled at the edges of her voice. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“Ymir.”

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of—!”

Krista sat up and looked back at Ymir, eyes blazing. “I am not. _Ashamed_.”

There was silence as Krista’s eyes bored into hers, tension surfacing like a taught rope between them. She lay back down, still facing away from Ymir. “We’ve been over this.”

Ymir pressed her palm to her eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” she said, cutting her end of the rope and tentatively putting her arm around Krista.

Krista gently placed her fingers on Ymir’s wrist. Neither of them spoke for the rest of the night.

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

“Shhhh!” Reiner put a finger to his lips as Bertholdt opened a drawer, its contents clattering.

“Sorry!” Bertholdt whispered. He gingerly retrieved the wooden spoon he was looking for and slid the drawer shut. “Remind me why we’re doing this at 3 a.m.?”

“Because Armin was _supposed_ to be assisting back at the school this afternoon, but Levi just had to call in and tell him to take the day off. And a surprise birthday cake isn’t much of a surprise when you’re there while it’s being made.”

“Who’s idea was it to wait until the day before Armin’s birthday to make the cake?”

“It’ll be best served fresh!”

“Okay,” Bertholdt nodded pensively, “So, last question: why am _I_ the one helping you do this?”

Reiner smirked at him, tying his apron. “Because nobody _else_ is going to bake a cake with me at three in the morning.”

Bertholdt gulped. “Marco might!”

“Hey, now, Marco had an eight hour shift at work today, I’m not going to make him do this!”

“So did I!”

“Oh, quit your whining.” Reiner tossed an apron at Bert and succeeded in smacking him in the face with it.

After flailing in a tangled jungle of strings and fabric, he finally secured the apron around his neck and waist. “So Levi actually let Armin take a day off? For real?”

Reiner nodded. “That little smartass was always his favourite.”

“Well he did ask Armin to be his T.A.”

Bertholdt vividly remembered his school’s terrifying secretary. The man had been freakishly intimidating, but also freakishly organized. Any form imaginable could be in your hands within ten seconds if you went to Mr. Levi, and there had been a popular myth that a student had come to him in the morning asking to be transferred to another school. The legend told that all the paperwork and technicalities had been taken care of by lunchtime, and the kid had spent the rest of the day at their new school.

Still, asking for anything from Mr. Levi meant braving his soul-penetrating stare, a feat which required rigorous mental preparation. Bertholdt remembered the experience fearfully, even though the height difference between himself and the secretary was… noticeable to put it lightly. To put it not-so-lightly, as well as somewhat crudely and inappropriately, Mr. Levi was “short enough to suck Bert’s dick without even kneeling” as Reiner put it. Although that was somewhat of an exaggeration.

“Hey, are you listening to me?” Reiner asked, “I need three eggs.”

“Oh. Right, sorry.” He fetched the eggs from the fridge and brought them over to where Reiner was sifting flour into a bowl.

“Can you crack those for me, actually?” he asked.

“Oh. Uh, okay.” Bertholdt set two of the eggs on the counter and gripped the third tentatively over the counter.

Reiner glanced over. “Oh, yeah, have you ever actually done—”

Bertholdt brought the egg down on the edge, and its entire contents were immediately liberated onto the counter.

They both stared silently and the liquid mass that was still wobbling gently between them. Bertholdt gazed into the yellow yolk; it somehow seemed to reflect everything that was wrong with his life, taunting him, scolding him. _You are the egg, and this counter is life_ , it seemed to say. What did that even mean?

“…Just out of curiosity, what exactly were you expecting to happen?” Reiner asked after a moment.

“I- I thought… Like, you’re supposed to crack it on the edge of the counter! And then it’ll have a crack in it and you can break it in half with your hands over the bowl!” Bertholdt was getting redder by the second.

Reiner sighed. “Just sift the damn flour.” He passed the sifter to him as he went to get another egg from the fridge, as well as a dishcloth to clean up the remnants of the first one. Bertholdt blew out a breath, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. “I told you I’m no good at this…” he said.

They worked diligently, only speaking when Reiner was giving Bertholdt orders. Thankfully there were no more mishaps with the ingredients, although Bert was only sure he understood what Reiner was asking him to do about 50% of the time.

Once all the batter was ready, they poured it into a cakepan and placed it in the oven, then set about making the icing. Not too long after the cake was in, they heard stomping footsteps above them.

“Whoa!” Reiner exclaimed softly as they both looked up at the ceiling.

There was a loud banging noise, then some heated yet unintelligible words. Then, much louder, they heard a muffled “ ** _GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP_** ”, followed by more stomping and a slammed door.

They looked back at each other and broke out into a silent laughing fit, their hands clamped over their mouths. Bertholdt doubled over, his sides heaving and his throat aching from the soundless laughter. Reiner had to stop himself from slapping the counter with his hand.

Eventually they calmed themselves down and removed the now-solid cake from the oven, slathering the icing on it.

“Now here’s your time to shine,” said Reiner, pressing a squeezable tube of icing into Bertholdt’s hands.

Bertholdt proceeded to write a standard happy-birthday message on the cake in elegant, tasty purple cursive, Reiner peeking over his shoulder.

“Hey, that looks great! See? I told you you’d be good at this.”

“Heh, thanks” he said, slowly moving the icing tube above the cake.

Reiner watched for a moment. “Put a penis on it.”

“What?! No!”

“Come on, it’ll be great!”

“Reiner, I am not doing that!”

“Armin’ll love it.”

“No!”

“Okay, fine… draw him and Eren making out.”

“Reiner, I’m trying to concentrate! You’re going to make me slip.” Bertholdt couldn’t hold back a smile.

Reiner rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Do you think we could fit a stripper in a cake this small?”

Bertholdt caved and began laughing uncontrollably. He squeezed the tube and a large squirt of icing was loosed onto the cake.

“Oh, fuck! Look what you made me do!” Bertholdt said between giggles.

“Shhhh! You’re gonna wake everyone up!”

The cake now said “Happy 18th, Arm”, followed by a purple blob.

“I think that’s good enough, right?” said Reiner, shoulders shaking.

“Oh yeah, Arm-blob is one of his favourite nicknames.” Bertholdt said, taking gasping breaths, a goofy smile plastered on his face.

“Okay, let’s put it in the fridge.”

“He’s gonna love it.”

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

_21, 22, 23…_

Annie kept her eyes trained on the floor, its proximity to her face waxing and waning rapidly. She wore only a bandeau and spandex shorts, and the muscles in her back and shoulders could be seen flexing powerfully.

_30, 31, 32…_

Mikasa was sitting on her own bed, reading quietly. She turned the pages of her book smoothly and carefully, the paper neither rustling nor wrinkling. The sound of Ymir’s guitar could be heard from the room next to theirs.

_38, 39, 40…_

Mikasa glanced at Annie’s face, and was surprised to see that the girl’s teeth were gritted. Her nose slowly began to scrunch into a snarl as she raised herself up and down, and her eyes narrowed.

_50…_

Annie’s face immediately relaxed and she let herself rest on the ground for a few moments, blowing out a deep breath. Mikasa watched her passively. Finally, the girl pushed herself up off the ground and crawled into her bed, collapsing heavily. She pulled out her hair tie and threw it across the room, her pale hair spilling onto the pillow.

“You’re not going to change out of your exercise clothes?” Mikasa asked.

“No.”

“Reiner says you’re pushing yourself too hard. He thinks you should relax more.”

Annie shifted in her bed, her eyes closed. “Maybe he’s right.”

Mikasa went back to her book. Annie’s breaths were deep and soft, and she looked like she was trying to melt into the bed, and let all her soreness and tension dissipate into the fabric of her mattress.

Whenever Mikasa read, there was always a point where she instantly knew she could read no more. It would always come suddenly and without warning, and once she knew she was done reading she could no longer focus properly on the book. Time had nothing to do with it; she could sometimes read for five hours and she could sometimes read only for five minutes.

She closed the book and placed it gently on her bedside table. She looked back at the other girl, and she could tell that she was still awake, despite her even breaths and closed eyes.

“Where do you go in the mornings, Annie?” she asked, settling down into her pillow.

Annie’s eyes opened. “Hmm?”

“You’re always out of the house by the time I wake up. Where do you go?”

She admonished herself for thinking Mikasa wouldn’t notice her early morning excursions. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling.

“I get up early to do my morning workout. Then I go out to Karanes Park, by the beach.”

Mikasa listened, silently prompting her to continue.

“I like to sit on one of the high benches on the hill and look out at the sea.”

She stopped, and after a moment Mikasa spoke up. “That’s all?”

Annie nodded. Then: “Every morning this kayaking team comes out. They paddle slowly across the water, all in a row. They never speak or make any sound, just paddle silently. I like to watch them.”

“Any particular reason?”

Annie paused. “I guess. I like the way it looks, just a single line of kayaks moving over the water. The sun doesn’t rise very early now, so they’re usually lit by moonlight. It’s pretty. It’s… relaxing.”

Mikasa nodded. “That sounds really nice.”

She didn’t say anything. Mikasa turned off her bedside lamp and the room was blanketed in black.

Her eyes closed and she eased herself into sleep as one would ease themselves into a cool pool of water, slowly feeling her consciousness slip…

“…Mikasa?”

Her eyes opened and her awareness returned. She looked up into blackness, her eyes not yet accustomed to the dark.

“Yes?”

Annie’s voice was a soft, impassive noise floating out of the darkness. “What are your feelings for Eren?”

Mikasa was taken by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“You two are close. Closer than friends, it seems. Sometimes, at least.”

“Eren’s my brother.”

“Not by blood.”

Mikasa turned to face where Annie was lying, still in darkness.

“That doesn’t matter. Eren, Armin and I were all raised together. My parents died when I was tiny, and Eren’s looked after me. Then Armin’s parents disappeared and he joined us. Then Eren’s parents died… We stuck together. We looked out for each other in school. We endured our foster mother together for years. I know them better than I knew my own parents. I could never think of either of them as anything other than my brothers.”

Annie was silent for a long moment. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Mikasa smiled. She did, didn’t she? Annie, Reiner and Bertholdt had a story nearly identical to hers. They’d been bounced around through the foster care system, never staying with one family for more than a few years, but they’d been raised together too.

“Why do you ask, Annie?”

This silence was longer than the last. “Just curious, I guess,” she said finally.

They spoke no more.

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

Marco shut the front door, relishing the warmth of indoors. Jean was in front of him, rubbing his hands together and blowing into them.

“Maybe a midnight walk wasn’t the best idea after all,” said Marco, teeth chattering.

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“It was pretty, though.”

Neither of them had dressed nearly warm enough. Marco’s windbreaker and Jean’s hoodie were not equipped to keep the oppressive November chill at bay, and Marco had insisted he didn’t need a scarf before setting out. Their noses were red and felt like ice, their joints ached, and neither could even feel their ears. Marco could imagine ice forming in his knuckles, limiting the dexterity of his fingers.

“Do you want to make some hot chocolate?”

Jean dug his fingers into his armpits. They were both still taking deep breaths, trying to thaw themselves with the house’s warm air. “No, I just want to go to bed.”

He grabbed Marco’s wrist suddenly and took off running, leaving him with no time to remove his jacket.

“Whoa!”

They clambered up the stairs, giggling. Jean’s hand was just as cold as Marco’s, but his boyfriend’s touch still managed to send warmth up his arm.

They reached the top of the stairs, breathing heavily and still laughing.

“Hey! Keep it down out there, I’m tryna tune my guitar!” came Ymir’s voice from her room. Jean gave her door a thump with the side of his fist, biting his lip and smiling peevishly, before stealing away into their room across from hers, dragging Marco with him.

“Brrrr,” Marco clutched the sides of his arms and basked in the room’s heat. Their room always seemed warmer than the rest of the house. At least, it did to Marco.

Jean’s clothes practically came flying off. Marco took time to enjoy the sight of his shirt slipping off, his lean but strong shoulder muscles shifting beneath his skin, and his back dimples just above the curve of his butt… Oh man, _that ass._

Once he was completely stripped Jean dove into the bed and engulfed himself in the thick blankets, looking like he was trying to absorb them into his very skin. Once he had been sufficiently swallowed by the bed he laid still for a few moments. Then his head peeked out from under the covers, and all Marco could see was messy hair and a pair of bright amber eyes.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Come on!”

Marco shook himself out of his reverie and hastily unzipped his jacket. Next came the shirt, then pants— god, he hated button-flies— and he considered leaving on his socks, but then opted to go with Jean-heat over sock-heat.

Before he could even get into the bed a hand shot out from beneath the blankets, once again latching onto Marco’s wrist, and heaved him forward.

“Oh!”

At first he landed on top of the covers, and then there was a flurry of motion and he was somehow _under_ the covers, and then a pair of arms came out of nowhere to yank him close and— ahhhh, _that_ was better.

Jean and Marco were pressed together, their arms encircling each other. Their legs were entwined and they pulled each other as close as they could, their skin meeting at nearly every inch, their faces bare centimetres apart.

“Ahhhhhhh,” Jean sighed, his breath warming Marco’s cheeks.

“Mmmmmm.” Marco nuzzled his face closer to Jean’s, their lips nearly meeting. He slowly rubbed his hand up and down Jean’s back, revelling in the incredible smoothness of his skin. He didn’t even care that Jean was lying on top of his other arm, and that he was lying on Jean’s arm, and it wasn’t very comfortable at all but at least he was finally _warm_. The intense cold that had settled deep within his bones was finally being melted away by a safe cocoon of blankets and Jean.

After the frantic, fast-paced minutes between the door and the bed, now time seemed to slow to a syrupy crawl. Marco became acutely aware of just about everything: the sound of air moving against Jean’s lips as he breathed, in sync with the swelling and receding of his chest. The slightest shifts and movements of his legs and fingers. The nearly imperceptible electronic ticking of the alarm clock on the desk. The rustling of blankets against his skin. The sound of Eren and Armin chatting in the room next to theirs. The individual strands of Jean’s hair where they ended just above his eyebrows.

He became aware of his own body as well. The warmth at every point where it connected with Jean’s. His own breath ghosting through his lips and nostrils. He could feel hot excitement pooling in the pit of his stomach, knowing what was not long ahead. His heartbeat was prominent in his ears, and every thud practically ached with contentment. There was no world outside this house. There was nothing of importance beyond this cloak of warmth and love he was enveloped in. There were no responsibilities ahead, nor regrets behind. It was just him, Jean and a bed, drifting through the universe, their friends floating around them like satellites, touching Marco’s mind and adding their warmth without distracting.

Marco lowered his head a fraction to touch his nose to the crook of Jean’s neck and inhaled. He smelled the faintest lingering of body wash, mixed with skin, fabric, sweat… Jean. There really is no way to describe the scent of your lover, they just smell like… _them_.

“I’m not warming up fast enough,” Jean said into Marco’s ear, his voice laced with a cadence that sent a tingling rush from his ears to his hips. Jean began shifting them both until he was on top of him, their bodies still pressed together.

Marco smiled, his eyes lidded, and draped his arms around Jean’s neck. “I think I know a way we can fix that.”

 

\---

 

Marco awoke hazily and checked the clock. Three twenty-seven. The stars were twinkling brightly outside, their journey across the sky nowhere near completed.

He felt something fuzzy on his collarbone and looked down to see that it was Jean’s hair. The boy’s face was buried in Marco’s chest, his arms squeezing him tightly like he was a pillow.

Marco chuckled, recalling the conversation they had not three hours ago.

“Jean! Why are you pressing my head into your chest?”

“Cause I like to feel like I’m protecting you.”

“Protecting me from _what_ , exactly?”

“Just shut up and let me feel manly, okay?”

“Manly??”

“Just indulge me. Please?”

“Fine.”

Now it looked like Jean had gone south in his sleep, completely reversing their previous position.

For the first year or so that they were together, Jean had been very insecure about people thinking he was the “girl” in the relationship. It had taken a while for Marco to convince him that they were, in fact, both men, that neither one of them was the “girl”.

That was all in the past, but occasionally Jean still liked to try and take on a “manly” role, usually when he was lacking confidence about something.

Marco looked down at him and wondered if something had been upsetting him. If he could see himself now he’d probably be needlessly embarrassed. Sighing, Marco took him by the armpits and hoisted him back upwards, earning an unconscious groan of protest. He smiled once they were again at face level, and planted a light kiss on Jean’s sleeping lips. Then he shifted himself back downward and placed his head against Jean’s chest, listening to his heartbeat and closing his eyes.

Loud, whooping laughter sounded suddenly from Connie and Sasha’s room all the way down the hall. What could they be doing at this hour?

The laughs continued for several moments and Jean began to stir. Marco heard a low, quiet growl resonate in his chest, which grew into a full-on snarl.

Jean threw off the covers and jumped out of bed, marching to the door. He yanked it open, hitting it against the wall, and stomped down the hallway in his red checkered boxers.

Marco sat up, astonished, and heard the sound of Jean knocking furiously on Connie and Sasha’s door.

“ ** _It’s three-thirty in the goddamn morning! GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP!_** ”

Marco put his hand over his mouth.

“ _Shut the fuck up, Jean, that’s even worse!_ ” came Eren’s voice from the other room. Jean clomped back down the hallway, banging his fist against Eren’s door on the way, and re-entered their room, slamming the door. He fell heavily onto the bed, wriggled downwards, grabbed Marco and pressed his face firmly into Marco’s chest.

“…Are you okay?” Marco asked after a few moments.

“Yes,” came his muffled voice, not sounding at all okay. He sounded a bit like a pouty toddler, in fact.

“Are you angry?”

“No,” he said angrily.

Marco sighed. There was only one thing that was going to calm him down.

“Do you want a blowjob?”

“Yes.”

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

Eren fell backwards onto his bed, letting out a loose breath. Armin was in his pajama pants on the other side of the room, lying on his bed with a textbook in front of him. His hair was messy; most people didn’t know it but Armin took great care to keep his hair neat and even on his head. Without meticulous attention, it would easily get wild and ruffled-looking, which made him uncomfortable during the day. At bedtime when it was just him and Eren, however, he didn’t seem to care, letting the wispy blonde strands fall in his face and in front of his eyes.

“Armin,” Eren complained, “I’m bored.”

“Go to sleep, Eren.”

He ran a hand over his eyes and down his face. “Sleeping is boring.”

Armin checked the clock. “It’s twelve-thirty. Aren’t you tired?”

Eren just grunted noncommittally.

“Why don’t you play Angry Birds on your phone or something?”

“I don’t play Angry Birds any more. It gets me too riled up, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” Armin ruefully remembered the cracks on Eren’s phone that were the result of multiple impacts with the wall. “ _Fuck those fucking goddamn pigs!_ ” Eren’s voice rang in his mind.

There was noise in the hallway, two people scrambling up the stairs, laughing. Ymir’s muffled voice sounded angrily from her room, followed by a thump. Then the sound of activity in the room next to theirs; Eren grimaced slightly.

“What are you reading about?” he asked.

Armin licked his finger and turned the page. His knees were bent and his feet waved and crossed in the air unconsciously. He always ended up doing that when he lied down to read. “The human immune system and how it fights viruses.”

“I thought you were studying physics.”

“Theoretical physics deal with just about everything the universe has to offer, so it’s good to be well-read in other sciences as well.”

Eren nodded thoughtfully, thinking back to their dinner conversation that night.

Then the _real_ activity started happening next door. He sighed wearily; for whatever reason the wall between Armin and Eren’s room and Jean and Marco’s room was thinner than any other wall in the house, meaning that the two of them got treated to the sounds of two of their closest and dearest friends screwing each other senseless nearly every night.

Eren put a pillow over his head. Armin kept reading, stone-faced, although he did blush slightly.

They were being particularly vocal tonight. Eren took out his phone and plugged some earbuds in before stuffing them into his ears. After his first song ended, they were still going and somehow managed to get even louder. He growled and kept his playlist going. Two songs later they were finally done, and Armin was beet red.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” he mumbled.

“Well we’ve got five more years of it, so we may as well.”

“Oh god. Maybe we can get someone to switch rooms with us.”

“All my stuff is in here! I don’t wanna move it; _they_ should be the ones to switch rooms!”

Armin just sighed and closed his book. He placed it on the shelf and situated himself under the covers. “You going to bed?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Armin turned off his bedside lamp, which had been the only source of light in the room. The moon was shining vividly through the window, though, casting a ghostly pale rectangle on most of the floor and giving everything a colourless glow.

Eren shucked his clothes and got into bed, finding his thoughts lingering on that night’s dinner.

“Hey,” he said, “that was pretty cool tonight, when you were talking about physics and space and all that.”

Armin looked over at him. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“At dinner, when we were all having that conversation. It was just… great how passionate you were about it.”

Armin smiled, the moonlight illuminating only most of his face. “Ah, that’s nothing you haven’t heard before, Eren.”

“I know, but… Tonight it was just really cool.”

“Thanks.”

They lay in silence for a few moments, and Eren felt Armin’s eyes on him.

“You’ll figure out what you wanna do, Eren. It’ll come.”

He nodded broodingly. He and Armin had spent hours in the past trying to think of things Eren was good at and ways they could be turned into careers and life ambitions, but to no avail.

“What is it?”

Eren looked over at Armin. “I…” he paused for a long moment, “nothing.”

He slumped further into his bed and pulled his blanket over his shoulder.

The bright moon slowly crept higher and higher in the sky, until it finally cleared the window frame and the room was dark. Eren took a few deep breaths, trying to relax his body into sleep, but his mind was swirling with unending thought.

“Hey… Armin?” he said quietly, hoping the other boy was still awake.

“Yeah?”

He felt his cheeks burn slightly, feeling ridiculous for what he was about to ask.

“How… how can you tell if a girl likes you?”

Again he felt Armin’s firm gaze. “You’re really asking _me_ this?”

“Yeah.”

Armin raised his head off the pillow. “ _Me_? Seriously? You know only one girl’s ever liked me in my entire life, right? Why am I the one giving you romantic advice?”

He blushed even further. “Well, you’re really intuitive. And you’re great at reading people.”

Armin blew out a sigh. “Okay, well, who is it?”

“No one.”

“ _Eren_.”

He scolded himself. This wasn’t Reiner or Marco he was talking to, it was Armin. If he couldn’t tell something to Armin or Mikasa, he might as well not even be thinking about it.

The burning sensation moved from his cheeks to his chest. “It’s Annie.”

There was silence and Eren thought he saw Armin’s eyes widen slightly in the darkness. “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah.”

“ _Oh, wow_.”

Eren was already wondering if he should have just kept his mouth shut.

“I’m good at reading people, but I’m not psychic, Eren. I’d have a better chance of telling you what a stone wall thinks about you.”

“I know…”

Armin’s head went back to the pillow. “So you like Annie, then?”

“No. I mean… maybe, I… I don’t know.”

Armin felt an internal red flag go up. It was very unlike Eren to be so uncertain, and with this on top of the ongoing career indecision he was wondering if he should be concerned.

“What do you mean? Just tell me if you like her, yes or no.”

Eren rubbed his neck, sweating slightly. “I really don’t know. I’ve just been having weird feelings.”

“Romantic feelings?”

“More like… sexual feelings. I just… I keep thinking about her, and us… doing things and it just feels weird. I can’t make heads or tails of it.”

“Mmm,” Armin grunted thoughtfully. “Well, I’ll keep thinking about it and I’ll tell you if I come up with anything. Annie isn’t an easy nut to crack, you know.”

Eren heaved out a deep breath and turned. “Okay, thanks Armin. Good night.”

“Night, Eren.”

He didn’t feel more certain about anything, but talking through it with Armin had helped calm things down in his head. His eyelids drifted, his vision began to fade, and he slipped seamlessly into shallow sleep…

…For what felt like about ten seconds. He was murkily awoken by raucous noises down the hall. Laughter?

A sharp bang followed by angry footsteps pulled him further into wretched wakefulness, culminating in a heated shout in Jean’s voice.

“ ** _It’s three-thirty in the goddamn morning! GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP!_** ”

Eren growled in sleepy frustration. “ _Shut the fuck up, Jean, that’s even worse!_ ” He could have potentially ignored whatever noises had been emanating from Connie and Sasha’s room and gone back to sleep right away, but the yelling had him almost fully awake now.

Armin shifted in his bed and sat up, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Eren huffed and fell back against his mattress.

“Jerk,” he grumbled.

“What happened?” said Armin, his voice coated in a thick layer of sleepiness.

“Nothing. Go back to…” Eren sniffed and frowned. “What’s that smell? Is… is someone baking downstairs?”

Armin lay back down and yawned. “Oh, yeah, Reiner and Bertholdt are baking my birthday cake for tomorrow.”

“Why are they doing it _now_?” Eren asked, eyes widening.

“They wanted it to be a surprise, but I overheard them talking about it this afternoon. They were gonna do it while I was at the school, but then of course Levi let me have the day off.”

Eren shook his head and smirked, feeling sleep slowly crawl back to the edges of his mind. “Nothing gets by you, does it Armin.”

“Nope.”

Eren yawned, vision swimming. He murmured another good night to Armin before falling completely into unconsciousness, sleeping soundly through the night.


	4. Operation Gaydar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco decides to get some answers.

Marco peeked his head slowly into the kitchen, stalking his prey. Reiner was alone, pouring himself a heaping bowl of cereal.

_Operation is a go. Preparing to engage._

“Reiner! How’s it going?” Marco exclaimed, giving his brightest smile as he entered the kitchen.

Reiner looked up from his bowl and matched Marco’s smile. “Hey, what’s up buddy?”

“Ah, not much! Just killing some time.” He sat at the table, nonchalant.

The cereal in Reiner’s bowl came dangerously close to toppling over the edge as he poured in the milk. People made fun of Sasha’s voracious appetite, but this boy had a stomach that could put a landfill to shame.

He leaned against the counter, shovelling spoonfuls into his mouth. “Yeah? Whatcha up to today?”

“Jean and I are going out to dinner tonight. We decided we haven’t done anything special in a while, so we’re dressing up and everything.” Marco put his cheek on his fist, preparing to commence Operation Gaydar. “So, uh, what about you? Any girls around that you’d like to take on a romantic dinner date?”

“Nope,” said Reiner, munching on a mouthful of cheerios.

_Good, good._

Marco rested his index finger underneath his nose, as he often did when he was thinking or concentrating.

“…How about boys? Any cute boys in your life?”

He chuckled. “Does Bertholdt count?”

Marco paused, then gave a forced laugh, mind spinning. _What the hell does he mean by that?_ _Is he being sarcastic?! I can’t tell!_

“Well…” he adjusted his position in the chair and watched Reiner carefully, “actually, I think Bert’s pretty cute.”

Reiner stopped chewing and gave Marco a strange look. “Really?”

_Jealousy, maybe? Keep going!_

“Oh, totally. Like, _really_ cute actually. I’ve always thought so, ever since I met him.”

Excitement rose in Marco’s chest, gears in his head turning rapidly, as Reiner frowned and set the bowl down before sitting across from him. He was getting close, he could feel it.

“Marco… is everything okay between you and Jean?” he murmured gently.

The gears came to a grinding halt. “ _Huh?_ ”

Reiner leaned forward, concern in his eyes. “Is there something going on here? Why are you checking out other guys?”

This was not going where Marco had anticipated, and he started blushing profusely. “W-what? That’s not what I meant! No, no, I’m not… E-everything’s great, Reiner!”

The other boy’s eyes widened. “Oh, god.”

“What?”

“Oh my god.” He leaned back. “You have a crush on Bertholdt, don’t you.”

_Critical mission failure. Abort immediately._

“Reiner, I do _not_ have… That is just absolutely ridiculous, I don’t—”

He jumped as Reiner bolted forward. “You cannot tell him!” he whispered frantically, “Oh god, he’d be just _devastated_ if he thought he was coming between you two!”

“Reiner! I’m telling you—”

He grabbed Marco’s shoulders, nearly looking like he was going to cry. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear. I know maybe you feel like you and Jean are in a rut right now, but that’s what the date tonight is for, right? You’re gonna go out, you’re gonna have a great time with Jean, and you are _not_ gonna think about Bertholdt, not even for a second, you hear me? You guys have come too far for you to give up on it now!”

Marco couldn’t believe this was happening. He wished his _goddamn cheeks would stop blushing_. Reiner’s grip on his shoulders tightened.

“It’s just a crush. It’ll pass, I swear. Marco, don’t— are you listening to me? Do not tell Jean. It’ll destroy him. He loves you _so_ much, can’t you see?”

“I know he does!” Marco blurted in frustration.

Reiner smiled, eyes shining. “That’s right. Don’t give up on him, Marco.”

“What are you two whispering about so secretively?” Jean ambled into the room, munching on a banana.

Reiner scrambled to his feet in terror. “We were just talking about how ugly Bertholdt is!” he barked awkwardly.

Jean swallowed and blinked in confusion. He looked from Marco, seething at the table with his palm against his eyes to Reiner, standing rigid and sweating profusely.

“…Should I come back another time?”

“Hahaha! Of course not, now’s great!” God, Reiner got loud when he was nervous.

Jean frowned slowly, looking perplexed and just a little scared, before backing wordlessly out of the kitchen.

Reiner released the breath he’d been holding and came around the table to Marco’s side, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. “You’ll get through this. I promise.”

Marco just blew out a sigh of resignation. “Yeah, thanks Reiner.”


	5. T/D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go too far during games night at the house.

          “Oh, shit. Uhhhhhh, well… I suppose it would have to be the day I met Krista. The first time I saw her in homeroom, I was like… _damn._ But I didn’t talk to her until about week later in math class… Yeah, you know this one, Krista. Oh, don’t give me that look, it’s a great story. Anyways, I was sitting next to her, and she asked if I could help her figure out this problem. It was… I dunno, polynomials or some shit.  So I got up and I leaned over to take a look at the page, and as I’m explaining the solution I notice that Krista’s not looking at the worksheet, she’s looking at _me_. Not only that, but she’s going red as a fucking tomato. So I look down to where she’s staring, and I see that the top two buttons of my shirt have come undone… right on the day I decided not to wear a bra.”

Raucous, shocked laughter burst from the group, as they sat in a large circle on the living room floor.

“So,” Ymir continued, “I just look up at her, and I say— ‘Like what you see? Look, but don’t touch.’”

Krista sat back, smirking. “You did not say that.”

“Yes I did!”

“Nope. You went stiff as a rod, then sat down without a word. You wouldn’t even look at me for the rest of class.”

Ymir frowned. “I said something cool, didn’t I?”

“Uh-uh.”

She shrugged. “Well, that’s my most embarrassing story, I guess.” She scanned the room carefully. “Uhhh… Reiner, Truth or Dare?”

“Dare,” he replied without hesitation.

Ymir’s lips curled into a devious smile as she thought. “One second,” she stated after a moment.

They all waited, anticipation heavy in the air, as she rushed up the stairs to her room. When she returned, she was brandishing a particularly lacy black bra.

“I dare you to wear this for the rest of the night. No shirt, either.”

Reiner stood, grinning. “Hah! Give me something challenging, at least.” He stripped his shirt and Ymir clipped the brassiere around his back, earning whoops and catcalls from the circle. It was stretched taught over his broad chest.

“It’ll be panties next time,” Ymir promised.

“That’s more like it.”

He took his seat next to a tittering Bertholdt and gave the group a quick glance before settling on a target.

“Sasha, Truth or Dare?”

“Oooh! Uh, Dare! No wait, Truth!”

Reiner stroked his chin for a few moments. “What’s the grossest thing you’ve ever eaten?”

Sasha’s eyebrow raised. “Uhhhh, I dunno… probably like some expired yogurt or something?”

There was a moment of silence, then Reiner gave an dissatisfied grunt. Disappointed faces were made all around.

“What? What is it?”

“I was expecting something weirder,” Reiner admitted.

“Why?”

No one had an answer for her.

She shrugged and turned to Connie next to her. “You! Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

She leaned in, eyes wicked. “ _Do you liiiiiike anyooooone?_ ”

Connie recoiled slightly, looking like he’d swallowed something poisonous. “Um…” he cowered under he electric gaze, sweat rolling down his forehead. “Yes.”

Sasha squealed and clutched his shoulder. “ _Who? Who who who who who?_ ”

“Hey, I answered your question! You only get one truth.”

Sasha gave a strangled groan and collapsed on him, assaulting him with her body weight. “ _Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?_ ”

“No! Leave me alone!”

Connie collapsed, uselessly trying to push the dead weight off him.

“Argh! Uh, Armin! Truth or Dare?”

Armin thought for a brief moment before deciding. “Truth.”

Connie and Sasha wrestled on the floor. “Who do you— oof! Who do you think is the most attractive person in this house?”

Eren gave Armin a menacing glare. “If you don’t pick me I’m putting ants in your bed again.”

“Hey Armin, remember when I bought you lunch last week?” Mikasa deadpanned.

“Shut up, you guys,” he said, waving them off. He inspected the faces around him, thinking carefully.

“I would say… it’s a tie between Krista… aaaand Jean.”

“Awwww thank you, Armin!” Krista chirped giddily.

Jean, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow. “Who, me?”

“Uh-huh.”

He puffed out his chest, cracking a grin. “Hah! You can all suck my dick.”

Bertholdt nudged Marco teasingly. “Should you be jealous?”

“Of course not,” Marco scoffed, “I think I can trust Armin.”

The smile Armin gave Marco was genuine.

Eren huffed and punched his friend in the arm. “That’s it, your bed is _so_ getting ants tonight.”

Armin ignored him and surveyed the circle once more. At last his gaze landed on Bertholdt.

“Bertl, Truth or Dare?”

The boy regarded Armin carefully, weighing his options. He was notorious for concocting creative, and often torturous, dares. However he was equally notorious for being able to drag _very_ personal truths out of people.”

“…Dare.”

Armin’s eyes narrowed and he smiled slightly. All present could see wheels spinning in his head.

At last he had it. “I dare you to take that lamp,” he pointed to the tall standing lamp in the corner of the room, “put it in the middle of the circle, and give us a thirty-second pole dance with it.”

An excited _oooooooh_ went around the circle and Bertholdt went white as a sheet, his eyes threatening to pop out of his skull.

Even more whoops and laughs were thrown as Bertholdt shakily got to his feet and grabbed the lamp and dragged it to the centre of the room. He looked at Armin.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Bertholdt began awkwardly rubbing his body up and down the lamp, rotating around it slightly and giving the occasional kick, earning delighted cackles from his audience. Reiner in particular bellowed with laughter, and even Annie couldn’t help but let a slight smirk creep onto her face.

At last Armin let the poor boy finish, and Bertholdt buried his face in his hands, groaning. After replacing the lamp he sat heavily in his place next to Reiner who was nearly passed out on the floor, clutching his sides.

“Uhhhhh… Ummmmm…” He thought frantically, wanting to shift the attention away from him.

Sasha’s hand bolted into the air. “Ooh! Ooh, ooh, ooh, me! Me, me, me, pick me, pick me!” She waved her hands in Bertholdt’s face.

“Okay… Truth or Dare?”

“Dare!” she barked immediately.

“Oh, jeeze, I’m not good at these. I dare you to… kiss Eren, I guess?”

Eren looked up. “Whu—?”

He didn’t have time to form words before Sasha grabbed his face and clamped their mouths together. His eyes widened and his arms flailed until she detached herself with a loud _mwah!_ sound.

“Ugh!” he cried and fell back, still in shock.

Sasha took no notice and immediately turned to Connie, her face so close it was practically smushed against his.

“ _Connietruthordare!_ ”

Connie gulped. “Uh, Dare.”

Sasha sniggered maniacally. “I dare you to tell me who you like.”

“Oh come on, that’s cheating!”

“It’s a dare, Connie, you have to do it!

“No, that’s not fair!”

“Are you gonna back out of a Dare, man?” Ymir jeered.

He was looking pale, and couldn’t bring his eyes to meet Sasha’s. He rubbed the back of his head, and Mikasa beside him could see him trembling slightly.

“Uh… it’s… well, it’s…”

“Come onnnnn!” Sasha shook his arm.

“It’s Hitch.”

She straightened, surprised, and cocked her head. “Hitch?!”

“Yup.”

She fell silent.

“Love at first bang, eh?” Reiner snickered, “You dog.”

“Heh. Yeah, that’s me…”

Sasha put her hands on her hips, scowling. “But you don’t have anything in common! I’ve never even seen you _talk_ to Hitch!”

Connie just stared at the floor. “I dunno, she’s just… really pretty, and nice and stuff…” He looked up at Mikasa and instantly averted his eyes, unable to bear her penetrating gaze.

Sasha sat back, biting her lip, and Connie cleared his throat.

“Jean, Truth or Dare?”

“Mmm… Truth.”

Connie smiled again, trying to get back into the spirit of the game. “How many positions have you and Marco done the dirty in?”

“Oh, lord…” Marco rested his head in his palm. Jean shifted uncomfortably beside him.

“Shit, I dunno… maybe like… nine or ten? Does that sound right?”

“Don’t ask me!” Marco yelped.

Connie raised his eyebrows. “ _Ten_? Are there even that many positions in gay sex?”

“You have no idea,” Ymir purred.

“Wow.”

“We just… like to experiment, I guess.” Jean coughed awkwardly. “Uh, anyways.”

He weighed his options, glancing at Marco beside him, then at Reiner. If Jean picked him, and Reiner picked Truth, he could finally prove to his boyfriend that Reiner and Bertholdt’s relationship was one-hundred-percent platonic. But he was likely to pick Dare, and Jean wasn’t gonna pull a dirty trick like Sasha. And besides, Marco would probably consider it cheating if they got the answer this way. Jean was no cheater.

He looked across the circle at Eren. He hadn’t been picked once yet, and it was looking like it was about time.

“Eren. Truth or Dare?”

Krista put a hand to her mouth. “Uh-oh…”

Eren’s eyes narrowed.

“Dare.”

The smile that spread over Jean’s face was full of malice. “I dare you to kiss Armin. On the lips, for fifteen seconds, open-mouthed, with tongue.”

Eren and Armin made the exact same repulsed grimace in perfect sync.

“Dude!” Eren exclaimed, “That’s my brother!”

“Yeah, but not by blood.”

Eren threw his hands up in the air. “Why does everyone seem to think that matters?!”

“ _Do it, do it, do it_ ,” the circle began chanting, egging them on. They turned to each other apprehensively.

“Sorry, Armin,” he mumbled.

“Just get it over with.”

They screwed their eyes shut and locked lips, a cheer erupting from the group. “ _One, two, three, four, five,_ ” they counted the seconds in unison.

“Come on, Eren, you can get more into it than that!” Jean taunted, “You’d better be using tongue!”

Eren flipped him off, his lips mashing against Armin’s.

At last the count reached fifteen and they broke off from each other. Eren sucked in air and Armin wiped his mouth, both of them thoroughly disgusted.

“Jean,” Eren panted angrily, “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

He thought carefully, glaring at Jean the entire time. Finally his face flashed and he grinned triumphantly. He leaned forward, pointing at himself.

“I dare you to kiss _me_!”

Everyone stared in silent surprise.

“…Wait.”

Jean’s eyebrow rose. “Is this your way of coming out to us, Eren?”

“Shut up, that’s not what I meant! I meant— I was trying to think of someone you would really hate to make out with! Fuck, just scratch that. I dare you to kiss… Uhhhh, I dunno… Ymir.”

“Thanks, asshole,” Ymir bit dryly.

“On the lips, fifteen seconds, open-mouthed!”

Jean scowled and leaned in toward the girl next to him, who leaned away equally.

“Stay away from me.”

“Come on!” Jean hissed through clenched teeth, “It’s a dare!”

Ymir sighed. “Fine.”

They began to kiss and the group counted upward excitedly. Halfway through Jean’s eyes flew open and his cheeks went pale.

Once the count was up he pushed off of her. “Blegh! Why did you stick your tongue in my mouth?”

Ymir leered at him. “Sorry, force of habit. It’s a lesbian thing.”

Jean went even more white, if that was possible. “Gross! I don’t want to know where that thing’s been!”

Ymir waggled her tongue at him and he turned away, revolted.

“Eren!” he cried, fuming. “Truth or Dare!”

“Dare!”

A collective groan went around the circle. Jean looked around himself madly. “I dare you to… to… to lick the bottom of this chair leg!” He grabbed hold of a chair and exposed the bottom of its leg, which was coated in dirt, hair and grime.

“Eren, don’t,” Mikasa murmured, tugging his sleeve as he stood. He whipped his arm away.

Eren knelt by the chair, everyone watching him intently.

“And not just a little wimpy lick, either!” Jean demanded, “You gotta use your whole tongue!”

Eren hesitated for a moment, then ran his tongue along the chair foot.

“ _Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew_ ,” came the group’s response.

“ _Jean! Truth or Dare!_ ” Eren snapped after spitting, his expression sour.

“ _Dare!_ ”

Sasha clapped her hands together. “Okay, I think that’s enough Truth or Dare for tonight! Why don’t we play charades now? I’ll start!”

“ _I dare you to eat a spoonful of salt!_ ”

Sasha deflated and Jean headed straight to the kitchen, grabbing a jar from the cupboard.

“It’s salt, not sugar, right?” Eren demanded.

Jean presented the “Salt” label on the jar’s lid before taking a spoon from the drawer and scooping it in. He eyed the spoonful of salt fearfully for a few moments.

Then he stuck it in his mouth, earning multiple groans and remarks of disgust from the circle. He screwed his face tightly, slowly trying to swallow the salt. His lower lip curled and his fists balled on the counter, until finally it had all gone down. He opened his mouth wide to prove it, then scrambled to retrieve a glass and fill it with water.

“ _Eren…_ ” he wheezed once he’d downed the whole thing, gasping for air, “ _Truth or fucking Dare._ ”

“ _Dare._ ”

Jean took a moment to stare daggers at the other boy before starting. “I dare you,” he spoke slowly, “to strip naked, run to the other side of the street, tag Ms. Lowell’s mailbox, and run back here.”

There were gasps and hoots as Eren and Jean stared at each other. Eren’s eyes were hard and shining, and his mouth was set in a firm line.

“…Underwear okay?”

“What do _you_ think?

Eren stayed silent for a moment before getting to his feet. He was met with cries of both delight and protest.

“Eren, come on! Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Take it off, Eren!”

“Sit back down!”

“Show us what you got, boy!”

Eren ignored them and headed to the front hall, facing the door. Off came his jacket, then his shirt, then pants, socks… He took a moment to shoot a look over his shoulder at Jean, before his boxers hit the floor and he strode out into the cold November night.

Reiner and Connie wasted no time rushing to the window to watch the boy jogging down the street.

“Look at him go!”

“Run, Eren, run!”

“You guys!” Sasha yelped, “Don’t _watch_ him!”

She was paid no heed as the rest of the group rose from their seats to join the pair at the window. Sasha sighed helplessly before following them.

“He’s got a scrawny ass!” Ymir remarked. Various other hoots and exclamations were thrown around as everyone jostled to get a better view. Mikasa’s arms were folded and Armin just looked resigned, gazing blankly out the window.

“Look, look, he’s almost at the mailbox!”

“He’s tagged it!”

There was a moment of anticipation followed by an ear-splitting cheer as Eren turned around to run back.

“ _Eren Jaeger bares it all!_ ”

“I can’t believe this…”

“ _I_ can’t believe he hasn’t done this sooner.”

Ymir, Connie and Reiner seemed to be the most enthusiastic viewers, while Krista and Bertholdt had their hands over their eyes. Jean would never, ever, ever, ever, _ever_ admit it to _anyone_ , but he may have been a _teensy_ bit turned on by the sight of his friend naked.

Connie snickered. “Heheh. Look, guys, it must be pretty cold out there.”

Reiner laughed and nudged him. “Do you think he trims down there, or does he just naturally look like that?”

Armin pinched the bridge of his nose. “He doesn’t trim, he just… doesn’t grow a lot of hair down there. Don’t tease him about it; he’ll get all pouty.”

At last Eren made it back to the house, and entered to a roaring round of applause.

“Wait to go, boy!” Reiner clapped him on the back as he pulled on his boxers, teeth chattering loudly.

“ _J-J-Jean_ ,” he puffed.

“ _Truth or Dare._ ”

Jean shook is head. “I dunno, man, I don’t think I can top that. Not unless you want me to do laps around the house naked, or something.”

“That sounds good.”

Sasha jumped in between them frantically. “Okay, no more Truth or Dare! Let’s play charades! _Please_!”


	6. A Very Attack on Titan Christmas part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, everyone! A housemates Secret Santa and general wintertime shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any opinions expressed by certain snarky lesbians on the subject of college sorority girls in this chapter do not necessarily reflect the author's opinions of college sorority girls.

♫ _Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la laaa, la la la la_ ♫

Marco was excited. He was giddy. He was just downright _bubbling_ with energy. He was a whirlwind of motion, flitting from place to place in the living room, indiscriminately throwing tinsel around like confetti. No flat surface was safe; the shelves and tables were littered with angels, mini-Santas, snowglobes, bells and, indeed, boughs of genuine holly.

“I wish he would stop singing,” Ymir groaned, facing away from the display. She, Connie and Jean were seated in the kitchen, maintaining a safe distance from Marco lest they themselves fall prey to his decorative mania.

“Come on, Ymir,” Jean chided, “you know he gets excited around Christmas time.”

Ymir treated him to a venomous glare. “ _It’s November._ ”

“Yeah, but it’s _late_ November.”

“The 17th counts as _late_?”

Jean shrugged and Ymir scoffed. “I remember a Jean Kirschtein who hated Christmas.”

He watched Marco, a slight but warm smile on his lips. “He gets _so_ into it, I just kinda can’t help but get into it too.”

Ymir rolled her eyes.

“What’s the matter, Ymir,” said Connie, “Don’t you like Christmas?”

She smiled mirthlessly and rested one arm behind the back of her chair. “Connie, Christmas is like a college sorority girl: all dressed up in cheap, tacky decorations in order to hide just how shallow and commercial it really is.” She glanced back at the living room sourly. “And just like a college sorority girl, _I hate it when it comes early._ ”

♫ _Don we now our gay apparel_ ♫

Marco appeared behind Ymir and firmly stuck a pair of reindeer antlers atop her head before fluttering away, still singing.

Jean and Connie snickered loudly and Ymir’s eyes narrowed. “That better not be what I think it is.”

“That’s the spirit, Ymir.”

“Yeah, it really brings out your eyes, too.”

Ymir’s expression became even more bitter. “Take it off.”

Jean crossed his arms. “You’ve got hands. Take it off yourself.”

“I said take it off!”

“Hey, sweet, antlers,” Reiner remarked as he walked into the kitchen. He plucked them off of Ymir’s head and placed them on his own before turning to the living room. “Place looks great, Marco!”

“Thanks!”

Ymir growled and stormed out of the room. “♫ _You’re a mean one, Mrs. Grinch_ ♫” Connie sang in her wake.

Jean left the table to go put his arms around his boyfriend and Reiner took his seat.

“He’s really going all out, isn’t he?”

Connie nodded. “It is pretty early, I guess. I’m used to it, though. I grew up with four crazy little brothers; they would always start tearing around the house shouting about Christmas as soon as Halloween was over. So would I, when I was little.”

“You going to see them next month?”

“Yup. I’m spending the whole week before Christmas with them.” He cracked a grin. “I’m pretty excited, actually. You would not believe how fun it is to decorate a tree with four brothers. It becomes an Olympic event, practically.”

Reiner’s face dimmed a little. “This place is gonna be pretty empty around the 25th.”

Connie felt a stab of guilt. Here he was blabbing about how excited he was to spend Christmas with his family, when Reiner didn’t have a family to go back to. A lot of their friends didn’t, now that he thought about it.

“Ah, we’ll only be gone for a couple of days,” he reassured, “and after that we’ll throw the most bitchin’ New Years party you’ve ever seen.”

Reiner’s smile returned. “I like the sound of that.”

They both jumped slightly as a loud ringing noise began to sound behind them. They looked over to see that Marco had pulled out a large, brass town-crier style bell with a dark wooden handle, and was parading up and down the hallways with it.

“Secret Santa draw time!” he belted, “Everyone gather in the living room to draw names for Secret Santa!”

People began to tentatively trickle in, looking somewhat bewildered. Ymir in particular had a cloud of pure grump hanging over her head.

Jean’s eyebrows rose. “Uh, the decorations are great, Marco, but don’t you think it’s still a bit early for Secret Santa?”

“I want to make sure everyone has plenty of time to get a special gift!” He brought out a hat filled with slips of paper (Where was he getting these things? Connie swore he had just pulled both the bell and the hat straight out of the ether) and held it out. “If you draw your own name, put it back and draw a new one! And don’t tell anybody who you got; it’s a total secret! There’s no spending limit; I think we can all trust each other to put good effort and value into our gifts.”

They all begrudgingly began sticking their hands into the hat and fishing out slips of paper. “Most of us will be with our families during Christmas,” Marco continued, “so I want to make sure we still have some quality time together! Sunday the 15th will be our very own Christmas Eve; we’ll have a wonderful dinner followed by the gift exchange! Mark your calendars!”

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

The first snowfall was on December 2nd at 11:17 AM.

“ _BERTHOLDT, IT’S SNOWING!!_ ”

Reiner literally fell off the bed and scrambled to the window, pressing his nose to the glass. Bertholdt’s head whipped up from his laptop and he gasped as he saw the flakes floating by outside, his face lighting up.

Sasha was literally outside within seconds. She had tried dressing warmly, and had succeeded in donning the reindeer antlers, a scarf and a single boot before losing patience and dashing out the door in her underwear.

“WOOHOOOOO,” she shouted, running and twirling and jumping in the snow. After a few minutes of excited screeching and catching snowflakes on her tongue, Sasha began to feel the chill nip at her skin and decided to go finish dressing. When she got to the front door she nearly collided with Jean and Marco as they stepped out, both warmly bundled.

“ _It’s snowing, you guys!_ ”

The two boys just stared. “Where are your clothes, Sasha?”

“Who needs clothes when there’s SNOW!” she jumped with enthusiasm. They didn’t answer.

“…Seriously, though, let me in. I’m cold.”

They obediently stepped aside and she zoomed past them into the house, practically leaving a fiery trail up the stairs.

Marco sighed and smiled up at the pale grey clouds above them as they walked. The falling snow was steady and plentiful; if it kept up like this there would be a solid foot of it by the end of the day.

“It’s so beautiful,” he breathed.

Jean smiled back at him. “There’s gonna be so much ice on the car.”

“I know.”

“We’re gonna need snow tires.”

“I know.”

“I’ve never put on snow tires before.”

“I know.”

There was a pause.

“It’s really pretty, though.”

Marco beamed. “I know!”

Jean reached down and took hold of his hand. He wished he could feel Marco’s fingers entwine through his, or at least the warmth of his skin, but they were both wearing mittens.

Jean shifted his attention from the falling snow to the boy beside him. Marco's jet-black bangs protruded from beneath his toque and nearly came down to his eyebrows. It had been a while since he'd gotten a haircut, and it was starting to get long and tousled-looking, which Jean secretly loved. Flecks of white got caught in his hair, standing out starkly against the dark strands.

The flakes that landed on his skin melted on impact, leaving a light tinge of pink on his cheeks. Clouds of breath blossomed like smoke from his slightly parted lips. Jean noticed they were just a little bit chapped.

He fished a tube of lip balm from his pocket. “Here.”

Marco’s eyebrows twitched in surprise and he licked his lips subconsciously. Then he met Jean’s eyes and smiled slyly. “You were staring at my lips, weren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Marco inclined towards him, still giving that smile, and Jean felt his chest flutter a bit as, for a moment, he thought Marco was going to kiss him. All he did, however, was take the lip balm from Jean’s hand and turn away. “Thanks!”

As Marco unscrewed the cap Jean reached over and gently placed his hand on Marco’s far cheek, turning his head back towards him. His expression became one of slight surprise before turning into shock as Jean cradled his head in his hands and brought their mouths together. He relished the warmth as their lips interlocked and Marco placed his hands over Jean’s, their lips moving slowly against each other. The image of himself plunging his tongue into Marco’s mouth, grabbing his hips and pressing them against his own flashed faintly in his mind, but he batted it away absently. _No, Jean, outside in the snow is not an appropriate place to ravish your boyfriend._

_Even if he is really, really sexy._

He brought his face away and Marco let out a slight puff. They wordlessly faced forward again, retaking each other’s hands as Marco applied the lip balm. After two and a half years of being together there was no need for explanation or justification, only mutual enjoyment.

“So where do you wanna go?” Marco asked.

Jean mulled it over, still watching the snow. There wasn’t even a whisper of wind, and the absolute silence despite the constant movement of white all around him was eerily beautiful.

“I think this is the perfect time for some hot chocolate.”

 

The snowfall didn’t even waver while Jean and Marco got their chocolaty drinks, and in fact had only seemed to grow heavier when they exited the café.

Marco guided the two of them to a bench, tucking his head down to shield his face from the icy flakes. His nose had begun to go red, and Jean had specks caught in his eyebrows.

“What do you want for Christmas, Jean?”

He blew on his scalding drink. “Hmmmm. Surprise me.”

“But there must be something you want!”

“Of course, but I’ll just ask my mom for that. You’re so creative with your gifts; I don’t even want to interfere.”

Marco scoffed. “That’s silly. Just give me an idea!”

“Nah, I trust you to come up with something great.” Jean gave Marco’s thigh a gentle brush.

“Fine, then. What are you gonna ask your mom for?”

He shrugged. “I need some new clothes. Maybe a pair of headphones. Nothing much, really.” He scratched his ear and glanced sideways at Marco. “So… what do _you_ want for Christmas?”

“Oh, no you don’t! If I can’t get any ideas from you, you don’t get any from me either.” Marco’s smile was teasing, and Jean gulped.

“But I’m not as good at thinking of gifts as you are!”

“Oh, don’t say that. Anything you get will be just great, Jean; I promise I’ll love it.”

Jean just grunted. His mind ran doggedly through ideas, none of them very appealing. Then something sparked.

“I just had the greatest idea.”

“For a gift?”

He shook his head. “Something for us to do now. Come on, let’s go home.”

Marco gave him a quizzical look as he rose before following him.

 

“ _Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh_ ” Marco sunk deep into the steaming bathwater, his arms on the sides of the tub. “This really _was_ a great idea.”

“Mmmmm.” Jean tilted his head back on the opposite end and closed his eyes, inhaling the fragrant vapour wafting up from the bubbles.

“What kinda bubblebath did you say this was, again?” he hummed.

“Jasmine and ylang ylang.”

“I dunno what a ylang ylang is, but it smells great.”

Marco tilted his head to the side, resting his cheek on his shoulder and hooding his eyes. “They’re both supposed to be aphrodisiacs, you know.”

A smile crept on to Jean’s face, his eyes still closed. “I think they’re working.”

They sat in the tub without moving, both of them too relaxed to get frisky just yet.

Marco let out a sigh and rubbed his arm. “This is exactly what I needed. My shift yesterday was just killer; I’m still sore all over.”

Jean opened his eyes and straightened his head. “Are your feet sore?”

“Mmhmm.”

He took hold of Marco’s left foot, which was by his hip, and brought it up out of the water. He rested the boy’s calf on his knee and began to massage the sole of his foot, working both thumbs right into the muscle.

“ _Ohhhhh, man,_ ” Marco nearly went cross-eyed and sunk even further down, practically melting right into the water. “ _That’s nice._ ”

Jean smiled, digging the tips of his thumbs into the ball of Marco’s foot. He made sure to work the heel and the toes as well before moving onto the other one.

Marco continued making contented groans and hums, doing nothing to abate the aphrodisiac qualities of the… what was it called? Langy lang?

“ _Thaaaank yoooou, Jeeeeean_.” The words drifted lazily like steam from Marco’s barely-open mouth. Jean gave his big toe a little kiss, which made him giggle.

Marco sat upright, scooting back and making more room in the tub. “Come here,” he said, beckoning. Jean acquiesced, bringing himself closer. “Turn around.”

He adjusted himself awkwardly, and with a fair bit of slipping and haphazard placement of limbs he managed to turn himself around and recline back against Marco.

Marco’s hands slipped out the water to cradle the sides of Jean’s head and he buried his face in his hair, inhaling deeply and giving a light kiss. Jean rested his palms on Marco’s knees, brushing his thumbs back and forth over the skin.

Marco cupped water in his hands and wet Jean’s hair before pulling a shampoo bottle from the rack and popping the lid open. He squeezed some into his palm and began to massage it into his scalp, the tips of his fingers making Jean’s skin tingle.

He sniffed. “What’s that shampoo?”

“It’s cinnamon. I thought it would suit you.”

“Mmmmm,” he smiled, “smells awesome.”

Marco worked his fingers over Jean’s scalp and through his hair, making him purr. He was surprised how nice it felt to have someone massage your head.

After a few minutes Jean dipped his head into the water and Marco slowly combed his fingers through the strands. He looked up at Marco’s upside-down face, smiling drowsily.

He closed his eyes, feeling the other boy’s skin against his, the warmth of body heat and bathwater intermingling. He felt the echo of an ache in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t a pain he felt so much as remembered; it was one that had once been familiar to him, and had thankfully come to pass.

Jean cringed slightly as he thought back to how he’d been before high school, before he’d met Marco. He remembered fights with friends he didn’t actually care about, nasty comments said behind his back, and lunchtimes spent alone and angry. At the time things had seemed okay, and it wasn’t until he actually grew up a bit that he realized how much it had sucked. Not only that, but how much _he_ had sucked. He still looked back on some of the things he’d done in those preteen years and thought _why, why did I do that?_

Things had started to get better by the end of grade eight, but really the thing that changed everything was the day he met Marco.

His grip tightened slightly on the boy’s knees as he thought about how grateful he was for every day they got to spend together.

The fingers stopped moving through his hair and Jean opened his eyes. Marco had obviously sensed the shift in him and was looking down at him, the curiosity in his face mixed with mild concern.

Jean sat back up and Marco brought his arms around him, placing their hands together on his knees.

“Can I tell you something?” Jean asked.

“Of course you can.”

Jean took some time to put the words together in his head. He was surprised he hadn’t told Marco this earlier.

“For most of my life, I felt like there was… something missing,” he said gently, thoughtfully. “Like I’d misplaced something precious to me. I just thought it was something I was always going to feel, and I didn’t even really realize what it was until it was gone. I haven’t felt that way in years, now.”

“Why do you think that is?”

Jean smiled, his heart rate quickening slightly. “Because I found you.”

There was the briefest pause before Marco kissed his neck and murmured into his ear. “Well, you’re never gonna misplace me.”

_Good._

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

It snowed for three days straight, although the fall on the last two days was considerably lighter than the first. By December 6th there was nearly two feet of snow on the ground.

The front door opened and Krista walked in, sniffling and chilly, but still beaming. “I’m home!”

Armin, seated at the kitchen table, looked up from his textbook and smiled. “Krista! Welcome back!”

Her own smile broadened and she set her bag gently on the floor before scurrying into the kitchen and putting her arms around his neck. “I missed you guys!”

“We missed you too,” he patted her shoulder, a little taken aback. She squeezed him, then went back to the front hall to take off her shoes and jacket.

“How was your visit? How’s your family doing?” Armin inquired.

“It was fine. They’re all doing well.” Some of the ever-present authenticity had dropped from Krista’s voice and Armin faltered. Her eyes were overcast for a moment, and then she brightened again. “I’m happy to be back, though!”

“I… see. How come Ymir didn’t pick you up?”

“Her taillight’s broken; she shouldn’t be driving until she gets it fixed. I shouldn’t have let her drive me to my parents’ place at all, but she insisted.” Krista sat in the kitchen across from Armin. “Where is Ymir, by the way? The house seems quiet.”

“It’s just me here right now. Jean and Marco had work, and Ymir and Bertholdt went sledding with Eren and Mikasa. Connie and Sasha said something about ice skating, and Reiner’s getting groceries with Annie.”

Krista’s eyebrows knit together. “Why didn’t you go sledding with Mikasa and Eren, Armin? That sounds like fun! Didn’t they ask you to come?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down. “They did… I really had to get some studying done. Besides, the sleds only hold two people, and I didn’t want to get in the way.”

She pursed her lips, glancing at the open textbook on the table. “Armin, your exam isn’t until April. You don’t need to be studying now!”

“It’s a really complicated subject,” he muttered.

“But all this information isn’t gonna stick in your head that long!”

Armin just shrugged, then noticed how red Krista’s neck was from the cold. “Hey, weren’t you freezing out there? Don’t you have a scarf?”

Krista rubbed her neck. “I lost mine! I can’t find it anywhere. I guess I’ll have Ymir—” her shoulders stiffened and her eyes widened. “I mean— uh, nothing! Nevermind!”

Armin frowned, but decided it was best not to ask. Then Krista snatched his textbook and clapped it shut.

“Hey!” Armin cried.

“You need to stop wrecking yourself with all this studywork!” She held the textbook out of his reach. Then she was struck with an idea and stood up, her eyes glinting with excitement. “Armin, let’s make a snowman!”

“A snowman?”

She bounced a little bit. “I haven’t made one in years! Ymir _refuses_ to do it with me.”

Armin reclaimed his book from her grasp and scrunched his nose. “I don’t know…”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, and when he looked back at Krista her face had become serious.

“Armin,” she said, a tinge of something unfamiliar in her voice, “I really, really need to do something _fun_ right now, and so do you. Come on.”

His mouth twitched in surprise before spreading into a smile. “Yeah, alright. That does sound like fun, actually.”

Krista beamed again and bustled to the hallway to put on her winter clothes once more, Armin trailing her.

Once they were warmly dressed they embarked out into the cold yard, wading through the high snow.

“It’s so nice to be home!” Krista exclaimed, clapping her hands to her cheeks. “I can’t wait for everyone to get back!”

Armin chuckled and scratched his chin. “Why don’t you work on the bottom segment and I’ll make the torso and the head?”

“Deal!” She skipped out into the snow and began gathering it in her hands.

Armin did the same, and when he had a ball he began rolling it along the ground. Rolling snowballs was always hardest at the beginning when they were small, and bending over made his back uncomfortable. It didn’t take long, however, for it to grow in size and start rolling more smoothly over the snow.

After a few minutes he checked on Krista, who was pushing along a ball that was about the same size as his. He decided that was a good time to start working on the head, and he made another snowball, starting the process over again.

Eventually they met in one spot, Krista pushing a sphere of snow that was over half as big as she was, and Armin sporting two smaller ones.

“Those are the perfect size!’ Krista remarked, puffing slightly and grabbing the torso ball. Armin waited for her to heft it onto the bottom piece before placing the head on top.

“There!” he said, “Now it just needs features.”

“I’ll get a carrot from inside,” she offered, “you gather some sticks and leaves and rocks.”

Armin went foraging through the front and back yards, snapping some suitable-looking branches from a dead tree and collecting an armful of pebbles and leaves.

The carrot nose was the first feature they placed, and they began building the face around that. They were thoughtful and meticulous with their task; Krista took particular care to make sure both eyes were the exact same size and the exact right distance apart, and Armin placed the snowman’s rocky smile in a perfect, even curve.

Krista inspected their creation carefully. “He needs hair.”

They carefully fashioned a hairdo out of wet, malleable leaves, making sure the bottom layer was flush with the “scalp” before painstakingly moulding them into a defined style.

Krista began to titter.

“What?”

“It looks kinda like Marco.”

Armin did a double-take and began laughing as well. The cheery smile and centre-part they’d given it had indeed given the snowman a striking resemblance to Marco. Krista gave it a light dusting of tiny pebbles on the cheeks and Armin laughed harder.

“…He needs a Jean to keep him company!” he realized.

And so it was that they spent well over an hour constructing a snow-Jean with a leafy undercut next to their first creation, giving Reiner and Annie a warm welcome when they returned home partway through.

By the time it was done, and the two snow-boyfriends were smiling and holding stick-hands, they were drained, freezing and sore.

Armin placed his hands on his lower back and thrust out his chest, stretching. “Was that really worth it?”

“I think so!” Krista said, her arms drawn to her chest and her fists clenched. “Thanks for doing this with me, Armin.”

He smiled wearily. “It was a lot better than studying. You were right.”

“Come on, let’s go inside. I think we can say these are two pretty successful snowmen.”

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

“Wooooooooooo!” Ymir cheered, clutching the sides of the sleigh and speeding down the hill with Bertholdt.

“Are you cold?” Mikasa checked as she and Eren watched them go down, standing at the top of the hill next to their sled.

He shook his head. “I’m just fine. Don’t worry.”

She gave a single nod, satisfied. Bertholdt screamed as he swerved to avoid crashing them into a tree and she laughed softly, covering her mouth with two fingers.

Eren looked somewhat troubled, though. “Do you think Armin’s okay?” he asked, “He wouldn’t come out with us.”

Mikasa shrugged. “The sleds only hold two people. If he was here that would mean someone would have to wait at the top of the hill while he had a turn. Do you really think he’d be comfortable with that?”

Eren grunted, his mouth set in a hard line. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I wish he would stop getting so hung up on shit like that. It’s not that big a deal.”

“Don’t be too hard on Armin. You know he struggles sometimes.”

“Yooooooo!” Ymir called from the bottom of the hill, throwing a fist into the air. Bertholdt was rubbing his forehead in stress, but he was smiling.

Mikasa and Eren waved. “He shouldn’t have to, though!” Eren pressed, “I would much rather have him here and have to take turns on the sled than be here while he sits at home melting into some dull book.”

She put her hand on his arm. “So would I, but you need to stop worrying about Armin,” she said firmly, “He’s just fine back home. We came out here to have fun, remember?”

“Did you see how fast we were going? I bet you losers can’t beat that!” Ymir boasted as she towed the sled back uphill with Bertholdt.

The grimness was swept from Eren’s face as he grinned down at the pair. “Don’t talk shit if you can’t follow up, Ymir.”

“Oh, yeah? I think it’s time for a race, then.”

“Oh, jeeze,” Bertholdt mumbled behind her.

They reached the top of the hill and Ymir set the sled into position to go right back down. “We’re gonna wipe the snow with you.”

“Like hell, you are,” Mikasa smirked, putting a fist on her hip.

She and Eren set up their own sled, with him at the reins and her sitting behind. Ymir took the helm of her vessel, and Bertholdt struggled to fit his gangly limbs onto the narrow wood.

“Ready?” said Eren.

Ymir sprung a wide, shit-eating grin. “ _Go!_ ”

She kicked off violently, jolting Bertholdt behind her and they sped off. Eren swore, slow on the draw, and set off as well, Mikasa urging him on.

Ymir craned her whole body forward and their speed picked up to nearly reckless levels. Bertholdt gave a cry of terror and she began cackling as they drew even further ahead.

Eren’s face set into a snarl as he desperately tried to catch up to them. He heard Ymir shout something indistinct to her passenger, who then leaned to the left. They swerved sharply around an incoming bush. Eren, meanwhile, barely managed to avoid a tree that went rushing past.

 _Damn_ , he thought, _Bertholdt’s height makes them able to turn quickly when he shifts his weight. Clever bastards._

“We’re not gonna catch up!” he yelled.

Mikasa’s eyes narrowed in concentration. “Yes, we are.”

She stuck her arm out and grabbed a quick scoop of snow from the ground. Gripping the sled tightly with her knees, she moulded it into a perfect, round snowball.

“You aren’t seriously going to—!”

“Shhh.”

Mikasa drew her loaded arm back and held the other out, pointing her index finger up and focusing on the tip like the crosshair of a sniper scope. She took careful aim, lining up her shot and doing some quick mental calculations, and let fly.

Eren watched in disbelief as the icy projectile soared through the air, practically in slow motion. He saw Bertholdt’s head begin to turn, saw his eyes widen and his mouth begin to open before…

 _Smack_.

Bertholdt yelped, his eyes covered in snow, the force of the impact throwing him back and causing their sled to veer.

“Whoa!” Ymir cried.

He kept flailing and Ymir lost control. They ran head-on into a patch of dead, twiggy bushes and were thrown into the air, landing among the poking branches with a resounding _oof_.

Eren roared, triumphant and incredulous, as they slowed to a finish at the bottom.

He leapt off the sled and Mikasa stood as well, brushing her legs.

“Mikasa, that was _amazing_! How did you do that? How were you… _How_?”

She looked him straight in the eye, completely deadpan. “Because I’m incredible.”

Eren barked out a laugh and threw his arms around her. “Damn right, you are!”

She laughed as well, hugging him back.

Ymir and Bertholdt trudged sourly down the hill toward them.

“That was a dirty trick! We would have won if you weren’t such cheaters!” she shouted, plucking a stick from her hair. Bertholdt rubbed his behind sorely, looking exhausted.

“You would have done the exact same thing if you had the skill,” Eren countered.

“Oh, you think I’m not _skilled_ enough to throw a measly snowball, do you?” The malicious smile returned to Ymir’s face, and he noticed that she was holding one hand behind her back.

The hand lashed out suddenly and a blur of white whizzed through the air, smacking Eren in the face.

“Hah!”

After a brief moment of cold shock, he brushed the snow from his eyes, sneering. “Oh, it’s on.”

 

After a snow war of legendary proportions, they decided it was time to head home as the sun drooped low in the sky. They fished Bert’s sled from the bushes and loaded the two of them into the back of Mikasa’s car.

Ymir and Eren jostled amicably in the back as she drove, and Bertholdt in the passenger seat had fallen asleep almost immediately after sitting down.

By the time they reached the house there was barely any light left in the sky, only some smoky blue in the west. As Mikasa pulled into the driveway she noticed a new addition to their yard.

Ymir craned her neck, having seen it as well. “Look,” she said, “gay snowmen!”

“Hey,” Eren nudged her arm, “Krista should be back by now.”

She didn’t smile; in fact she looked bitter about something. “Good,” she said firmly.

Mikasa unbuckled her seatbelt and looked at the boy snoring loudly beside her. “He’s not getting up any time soon,” she observed. “You guys rock-paper-scissors to decide who gets to carry him inside.”

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

Reiner laid the heavy bags on the kitchen table, huffing. It had taken long enough just to get all the groceries at the store, but lugging them back home on foot had been a long, chilly ordeal.

Annie put down her load next to his and headed toward the gym. “I’m gonna do some sets.”

He snagged a hold of her hood, pulling her back. “Oh, no you don’t,” he scolded, “After that trek? You’ve already been pushing yourself too hard, Annie.”

“I’ll only do a—”

“Annie.” When she turned to face him Reiner’s arms were crossed and his face had gone stony. “You need to stop. At least take a break.”

She held his gaze for a moment before lowering her eyes slightly. “Yeah. Ok. You’re right.”

“You’re gonna do something with me, instead,” Reiner began fishing through the grocery bags.

“Oh?”

He pulled out a box and handed it to her. She remained expressionless as she examined it and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. “…A gingerbread house?”

Reiner was already tying his apron.

 

When Armin and Krista retreated inside, worn out and shivering, the kitchen was a mess. Making gingerbread was much harder than Reiner had anticipated, and both he and Annie had gotten brown smears all over the counters and their clothes.

They both glowered at the oven. “Third time’s the charm, right?” said Reiner.

Annie made a noise that was halfway between a grunt and a growl as she took the box and read through the instructions for the umpteenth time. “It should work this time; we did everything just like it said.”

Reiner noticed the two weary figures shuffling from the front hall and turned. “Hey, you guys! You’re way better at desserts than I am; do you think you could lend us a hand with this gingerbread house?”

Armin flopped onto the couch, Krista not far behind him. “I really don’t think I’m up for it now,” he apologized weakly, rubbing his muscles, “If I spend another minute on my feet I’m gonna die.”

“Same here,” Krista groaned.

The oven beeped and Reiner hesitated for a moment, not wanting to open it to see another goopy disaster. When he pulled the door open, however, he smiled in triumph. “It worked!”

“Finally,” Annie muttered.

He pulled the baking sheets from the racks and presented the perfect flat, golden-brown squares. “You glue these together with icing and make a house like it says on the box,” he instructed, “I’m gonna use the rest of the dough to make some gingerbread men.”

She nodded and began scrutinizing the box again, and Reiner started digging through the drawers. “Armin?” he called out behind him, “Do we have any gingerbread man cookie-cutters?”

“Um.” Armin knit his eyebrows together, thinking. “I don’t think those were at the top of the list when we went shopping for kitchen supplies.”

Reiner uttered a curse under his breath. “Well, I’m just gonna have to improvise then,” he declared, setting about shaping the dough with his hands.

The room was aglow with quiet concentration and energy as Annie carefully worked the icing like cement on the gingerbread walls, her tongue stuck out on her upper lip, and Reiner sculpted little arms and legs out of dough. Armin and Krista chatted affably in the background.

“There!” Reiner said after a few minutes. He picked up the cutting board and showed three misshapen, ill-proportioned gingerbread people to Annie.

“This one’s you,” he explained, pointing to one, “cause it’s the shortest.”

She blinked. “It’s the shortest because it doesn’t have a torso. Or a neck.”

“Yeah, just like you!”

Annie gave a short “blowing-slightly-more-air-out-your-nose-than-usual” laugh and a little smile bloomed on her lips as she turned back to her work.

Reiner clapped her shoulder. “Hah! Made you smile!”

“So what?” she said, looking up at him.

“You’ve been glum all day, Annie.”

He saw Armin frown in his peripheral vision and thought he heard him whisper “ _How can he tell?_ ” to Krista, but he paid them no heed.

Annie’s smile widened a bit and she looked back down. “This is nice. I’m enjoying it.”

“Good.” He ruffled her hair a bit and picked the cutting board back up. “These’ll look better when they’re baked. Then when Bertholdt gets back he can help us decorate it.”

Annie took a bit of frosting from the newly-constructed house and licked it off her finger. “Sounds good.”

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

“Snrkkkkmphch.”

Connie raised an eyebrow at Sasha as they tied their skates. “You laughing at me?”

She covered her mouth with her hands, snickering and looking at the top of his head.

Connie glanced up at the reindeer antlers he was sporting. “What?”

“I just think you look funny.”

“This is my gay apparel! Don’t laugh!”

She descended into a full-on giggle fit and Connie went back to his skates. _Times I’ve made Sasha laugh today: 11. Not bad._

Once she regained her breath she hopped to her feet eagerly and started waddling over to the ice. “Come on, slowpoke!”

The sun was low in the sky despite the hour, casting slanted shadows on the outdoor skating rink and making the ice and skates twinkle coldly. Connie stole a moment to see the sunlight shine off of Sasha’s auburn hair, bringing out the vivid colour, before finishing his laces.

She noticed him step onto the ice and homed in on him like a missile, grabbing his arm as she shot by. He wobbled fearfully until he managed to straighten his legs and match her pace.

“Wheeeeee!” They started out doing laps around the rink, relishing the speed, and eventually ventured into the middle, swerving and looping lazily around one another.

Sasha waited until Connie was watching her. “Watch this!” she shouted once his eyes met hers. Her blade dug into the ice and she launched into the air, twirling out a graceful double-salchow.

“Nice!” He gave her a double thumbs-up as she landed.

“What can _you_ do?” she taunted, sticking her tongue out.

He sideswiped her shoulder lightly as he passed. “If I had a stick and a puck I’d show you!”

They continued spiralling around the ice, weaving in and out of proximity. Eventually Sasha lost sight of Connie and scanned the rink for him, shielding her eyes from the harsh winter sun.

Something collided with her from behind and she shrieked as she was suddenly propelled forward. Arms wrapped around her midsection and she heard the familiar chortling of Connie, whose momentum had sent them both careening ahead. Both of them flailed their legs and frantically tried to shift their weight, until they smashed into the wall and fell on their rears, shaking with laughter.

They remained sitting against the wall as their hooting ran out of gas and passing skaters gave them odd looks. Sasha sighed happily and inclined her head back, observing the pale blue sky, like a faded sheet above them.

“I’m glad I took figure skating when I was little. My dad said I could pick one thing to do outside of school, and that’s what I chose. I’m happy I did.”

“Yeah.”

She felt the energy simmer down between them, and knew that both of their thoughts had begun to turn more serious. Her hands found their way to her knees as she decided to break the silence.

“So how’s Hitch?” she asked.

Connie’s face tightened a bit. “Uh, not bad, probably.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“Not recently, no.”

“Have you seen her?”

She could feel him starting to withdraw. “No.”

Sasha blew a frustrated puff of air from her nose. “Are you going to tell her that you like her?”

“Probably not.”

She looked back up at the sky, feeling her insides twist a bit. “If you like a girl you should tell her,” she mused, “She probably likes you back.”

Connie didn’t respond. Sasha’s lips scrunched in irritation, but she didn’t press the issue.

“How’s your dad doing?” he asked eventually, his voice still sounding just a tad shaky.

“He’s doing really well.” Thinking of her dad brought some warmth back to Sasha’s voice. “The house has been a real blessing. A miracle, really. Now that I’ve moved out, he doesn’t have to provide for me anymore, and he can focus on taking care of himself. I never thought I’d be able to move out so quickly… I thought I would have to wait years, actually.”

Connie’s smile was brought back as well. “What do you think Mr. Pixis is up to?”

“Heh. I’ll bet he’s in Singapore. No, wait, Madagascar.”

“Madagascar’s the place with the lemurs, right?”

She flicked his shoulder teasingly. “Do you get all of your geographical education from kids’ movies?”

Connie stood, sliding a bit on the ice. “Only most of it.” He held out his hands.

Sasha took them and he pulled her up, the force sending them spinning like a cartwheel, laughing all the way. Once they slowed down Sasha linked her arm through his, and they skated side by side until the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon.

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

 

Sunday the 15th came quicker than any expected, and the kitchen was a bustling hive activity for the better part of the day. At 7:00 sharp a fantastic Christmas feast prepared by Reiner, Armin, Marco, Sasha and Krista was served in the fancy, yet-unused dining room. After that Marco wasted no time in herding them all into the living room, their bellies full and their gifts in hand.

The place had only accumulated more decorations as the weeks wore on. They hadn’t been able to afford a Christmas tree, so Marco had settled for wrapping lights and tinsel around the standing lamp in the corner, hanging bulbs from the lampshade and spraying it with pine air freshener.

Marco fussily directed them into a seated circle after moving a couch out of the way, then clasped his hands together.

“Okay,” he announced, buzzing with excitement, “first of all, Merry Christmas! Also, a Happy Hanukkah to Krista and Bertholdt!”

Krista smiled. “Thanks! It ended last week!”

“And happy holidays in general to all! Now, it’s time for the Secret Santa gift exchange! You all have your gifts; we’re gonna go around in a circle, and when it’s your turn, whoever drew your name will present you with your gift! Simple!”

He sat next to Jean, wringing his hands with anticipation. Ymir rolled her eyes.

“Contain yourself, jeeze.”

Marco only beamed brighter. “Not a chance! Alright, Sasha, we’ll start with you and go counter-clockwise!”

Sasha made a high-pitched noise and looked frantically around to see who her Santa was.

“Here,” said Connie, handing her gift to her.

She gasped and gazed up at him, eyes shining, an open-mouthed grin spreading over her face.

“Oof! It’s heavy!” she observed as she accepted it from him and tore into the wrapping paper.

Sasha cocked her head as the paper fell away to reveal a large, rectangular plastic object with a cord hanging from its side. The thing had a hinge and opened like an oyster, and the insides were lined with two sheets of metal. She looked back up at Connie quizzically.

“I know how much you hate waiting for your grilled cheese sandwiches to cook on the pan,” he explained, “so I got you a waffle iron with a griddle attachment. If you plug it in, stick a grilled cheese in there and then close it, it’ll cook it on both sides so you don’t have to flip it.” He revealed a little drawer at the bottom of the iron, which held two more sheets of metal covered in raised squares. “You can also swap these in to make waffles with it.”

Sasha was completely mesmerized by the appliance. She stared at it reverently, like she was holding a massive, precious gem.

“I’ve missed waffles so much,” she choked, “and I _do_ hate waiting for my grilled cheese.” She looked as if she was about to scream with excitement, but then she blushed and looked down, embarrassed.

Connie frowned. “What is it?”

“I’ve… never received a gift this expensive before.” She bit her lip.

He examined her for a moment, then folded his arms. “Well, you deserve it. Don’t feel bad.”

Sasha practically radiated warmth as she threw her arms around Connie, thanking him profusely and blushing even more.

It was Jean’s turn next. Marco nudged him and he looked up expectantly.

“Yo,” said Reiner, holding up his hand. “I’ve got Jean’s gift, but I think he’s gonna want it given in private,” he smirked.

Some questioning murmurs went around the circle, and Jean frowned nervously.

“…Alright,” said Marco, eyeing Reiner warily, “Who has mine, then?”

Sasha leaned across Jean suddenly, startling him. “Me!” She reached over, holding out a small package. Marco took it and squeezed her hand warmly before unwrapping it.

“Oh…” his hand went to his mouth as he held a shining silver charm bracelet in the air.

Sasha sat back, much to Jean’s relief. “It’s got a charm for every one of us!” she said, “I’ll leave you to figure out who each one is!”

Marco’s eyes misted as he clipped the bracelet to his right wrist. “I’m going to wear this every day. Thank you _so_ much, Sasha.” He got up and hugged her tightly to a chorus of _awwwwww_ s from the group.

“Okay,” he wiped a tear from his eye and sat back down, “Connie’s next.”

Ymir reached into her pocket a pulled out a card, flicking it lazily at Connie. She succeeded in hitting him in the forehead with it, and he fumbled to catch it in his hands.

“Oh, wow, a Starbucks card,” he proclaimed dryly, “Thanks Ymir. I don’t even drink coffee.”

She gave a tiny, sarcastic smile. “Merry Christmas.”

“Oh, what, it only has five dollars on it?!” he spat as he turned the card over, “What the hell, Ymir?!”

She only shrugged ignoring the tiny blonde who was staring daggers next to her.

“I’ve got Bertholdt!” Marco declared quickly, trying to diffuse the tension.

Bertholdt gasped when he opened his present, his eyes lighting up. “Swiss chocolate! I haven’t been able to find _any_ around here!” He clutched it to his chest. “How did you even know?”

Annie raised a finger. “I told him.”

“Look at the underside,” Marco prompted, smiling. Bertholdt complied and found a slip of paper taped to the bottom of the chocolate.

“That’s where I found it.”

“Oh, Marco, you’re a lifesaver! Thank you so much!”

Reiner was next, and Eren made his way across the circle to present him with his gift.

“Ah! Tennis shoes!” He lifted them out of the newly unwrapped box and showed them to the group. “This is perfect! Mine are completely wrecked.”

Eren punched his shoulder. “Yeah, and I expect to see you on the court more often now that you don’t have an excuse.”

“It’s a deal.”

“Oooooh, who got me?” Krista inquired excitedly. She squealed as she received her gift from Armin and gently unwrapped it.

“Oh, Armin, it’s just _beautiful_!” She let the paper fall away and held up a silvery-blue silk scarf. A bronze tree-branch pattern was sewn into it, with delicate, light pink blossoms. “Did you get this after I told you I lost my scarf?”

Armin nodded, reindeer antlers wobbling on his head. “Mikasa helped me pick it out.”

"Oh, it's gorgeous," she gushed, "I just love it!" She pecked him on the cheek and draped the new garment around her neck. “Your turn, Ymir!”

Mikasa passed her gift over and Ymir opened it disinterestedly. Her eyebrow rose in admiration, however, when she saw a beautiful mother-of-pearl guitar pick on a delicate chain.

“You can wear it as a necklace so you don’t lose it,” Mikasa recommended.

“This is pretty sweet, actually.” Ymir tried not to let too much enthusiasm show on her face. “Thanks, man.”

Annie came next, and Krista jumped up, holding a circular metal tin in her hands. “Here you go, Annie!” she chirped, handing over her present.

Annie opened the tin. “Cookies,” she stated simply.

“I baked them yesterday!”

There were exclamations of jealousy around the circle and Eren scrambled to his feet. “Can I have one?” he asked desperately. Krista’s cookies were a rare and unparalleled phenomenon, and anybody who managed to get a hold of some was often able to auction them off for hefty prices.

Annie snapped the tin lid shut. “No. Get your own.” She looked back at Krista and smiled. “They smell delicious, Krista. Thank you.”

Bertholdt rose as the group’s attention came to Armin; his gift was large and rectangular, and he lugged it across the room to where the boy sat.

Armin unwrapped it carefully, making sure not to tear the paper, and his eyes began to widen as more was revealed. Once all the wrapping was gone he held a large wooden frame with a canvas stretched over it in his hands. He simply stared at it in awe, his lips slightly parted and unable to form words.

The canvas showed a hand-painted portrait of Armin with Mikasa and Eren on either side of him, their smiling faces pressed together. It was a beautiful reconstruction of a picture on Eren’s phone that they had taken at the beach one day, the ocean shining brightly in the background. The brushstrokes captured their features perfectly, and communicated the happiness they’d felt that day in a way that couldn’t be done through the screen of a phone.

Eren put his arm around Armin and took a look. “Holy crap, Bert, I didn’t think it would be _that_ good.”

“Hey, let us see!” Sasha whined. Armin, still speechless, showed the painting to the group. Some made exclamations of surprise and admiration, and some just observed in awe.

“This,” Armin finally stammered, “Bertholdt, this is… it’s incredible. I… don’t know what to say.”

Reiner nudged the boy next to him. “Every time you went back to the school to T.A. Bertl scrambled to the studio to work on it.”

Bertholdt smiled warmly. “I’m glad you like it, Armin.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever receive another gift like this,” he breathed, shaking his head. “This is staying on my wall. I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“It’s a gift. It’s enough to know that you like it.”

Armin was on the verge of tears, and he urged Eren to take his turn so they could continue on.

“Who picked me?” Eren asked, rubbing his hands together.

“I did,” Annie replied, nodding in his direction. She took a moment to contemplate silently before getting to her feet. “I didn’t wrap it; it’s in my room. Hang on.”

She strode from the room, leaving them to wonder and guess amongst themselves. Eren had his arms around his knees and was staring into his hands, an almost nervous expression darkening his face.

He looked back up as Annie returned. She held a long, carved wooden staff in her hands, and she held it out, presenting one end to Eren. The thing was taller than she was.

His eyes sparked. “What is it?”

“It’s a bō staff. You told me you wanted to learn more fighting styles, so starting tomorrow I’m going to teach you bōjutsu.”

Eren took it in his hands, handling it gently, as if it would break despite the hard wood. The carvings were incredibly intricate, depicting eagles in flight, spiralling toward the top of the staff.

“Where… where did you get this?”

Annie sat back down and regarded him. He fought the urge to break the piercing eye contact she held with him. “It was my dad’s.”

Eren inhaled sharply and held the staff out slightly, as if it had morphed into a poisonous snake. “Annie, I can’t take this! No way!”

She stared him down, her expression hard. “I already have one that I’m used to fighting with,” she explained, “If you don’t use that one it’s just going to collect dust. That’s not acceptable. It needs to be used, Eren.”

He looked like he was going to refuse again, but instead he just nodded, gazing at the staff. His expression was unreadable, but there was obviously a torrent of thoughts running through his head.

“Mikasa’s turn!” Jean barked suddenly, holding up a package that was more scotch tape than actual wrapping paper. He proudly bestowed it upon Mikasa, who took it gingerly.

After a few minutes of struggling with overlapping layers of tape, her eyebrows twitched and she stared blankly at what was inside.

“…Jumper cables?”

“You’d be surprised how unprepared people can be for a roadside emergency!” Jean watched Mikasa’s face in anticipation, his chest puffed out.

Eren slapped his forehead. “She already _has_ jumper cables, Jean. Practically everyone does.”

He deflated instantly. “W-well, they can be used for other things!” he countered frantically, “You could use them to tie stuff to your roof rack!”

“That’s what bungee cords are for, you idiot!”

Jean’s mouth flopped, his face going red. Mikasa sighed and closed her eyes. “They’re lovely, Jean, thank you.”

“Hah! See? She likes them!”

“Okay, I think that about wraps things up,” Marco said, trying not to glare at the boy beside him. “Happy Secret Santa, everybody!”

 

The rest of the evening was spent lazing around the living room and flaunting gifts. Marco had found a small, fake fireplace space-heater at a bargain the week before, and it was now set up by the wall, glowing gently.

Jean found Reiner waiting for him in the hallway outside the library. He opened the door and beckoned him inside.

The library always seemed empty without Armin in it, Jean thought. He closed the door and turned to Reiner, who held out a wrapped gift. It was long and slender and almost… uh-oh.

Jean took it in his hands. He did not like that smile the boy was giving him. “Reiner…”

He started to unwrap it. _Please no, please don’t let it be what I think it is…_

_Oh god._

He was not expecting it to be so… purple. Or so large. _Does it…?_

Yep. It vibrated.

“Tell Marco I said ‘you’re welcome.’” Reiner smirked and clapped Jean on the shoulder.

Jean felt blood rush to his face and sweat drip down his forehead. There were so many questions, a hundred thousand things he wanted to ask as he gawked at the phallus in his hands. Only one of them made it out though, spilling out of his mouth like word-vomit.

“T-this wasn’t yours, was it?”

He looked up to see Reiner staring at him, utterly stunned. He was silent for a moment. Then: “ _Jean, what the **fuck**?!_ ”

Jean snapped, and threw his hands in the air, his face going completely red. “ _I can’t fucking tell whether you’re gay or not, goddammit!_ ”

“Wait, what?! What are you talking about?”

His hands curled into fists “Just tell me if you’re gay or straight, it’s driving me nuts!!”

Reiner folded his arms, frowning. “Does it have to be one or the other?”

“I… what?”

“I’m just saying, there’s other stuff I could be. Like, I dunno, bisexual maybe?”

Jean lowered his hands. “…Oh. _Ohhhhhhhhhhhh_.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean… why didn’t you tell us?”

Reiner shrugged. “I never thought it was big deal. And it never really seemed relevant anyways.”

He looked back down at his recently-acquired appliance thoughtfully. “So… this _wasn’t_ yours, right?”

“No! Jesus Christ, Jean, why would I do that?”

“I was just making sure!”

There was a moment of silence before Jean remembered something. “Hey! So, wait… you and Bertholdt…?”

Reiner’s eyebrow twitched. “Me and…” Then he just smirked again. “I’m gonna leave that to your imagination.” He opened the door and left the room, heading toward the stairs.

“Hey, wait! Reiner!”

“Have fun with your Christmas gift!”

 

In the hallway at the other end of the house, Connie approached the stairs as well, on his way to bed. He was halted, however, by a call from behind him.

“Hey.”

He turned around to see Ymir with one hand behind her back. She met his eyes only for a second before lowering her own.

“Oh, hey. Come to spread some more Christmas cheer?”

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbled, stepping closer. She towered over him, which was usually intimidating, but right now she looked uncertain, her free hand rubbing her other arm.

“I, uh… I had something else to give you.”

“What, is it a pack of gum or something?”

Ymir seethed and then softened, bringing her hidden hand out to reveal a wrapped package. Connie took it warily, fully expecting a torrent of spiders or something to come pouring out once he opened it.

Instead he found a pair of knitted woollen mittens: brown, bronze and dark purple with a zigzag pattern. He frowned down at them.

Ymir rubbed the back of her neck, making sure no one else was within earshot. “Krista convinced me to make them. You don’t already have a pair, do you?”

Connie took a moment to respond, astounded. “I do, but I mean, they’re nowhere _near_ as nice as these. I… Thank you, Ymir.”

She shrugged awkwardly, not meeting his eyes.

“Wait… Ymir, you knit?”

She brought her eyes back up, going red. “If you tell anyone, I’m gonna stuff those up your stocking.”

He couldn’t help but grin wickedly. “So, should I start calling you ‘grandma’ now?”

“Don’t make me take those back!” snarled Ymir.

“‘Granny Ymir’. Doesn’t sound as bad as I thought it would.”

She folded her arms and looked away, grumbling. There was silence before she spoke again.

“I want that Starbucks card back, by the way.”

Connie drew back, scowling. “What? No! It’s mine!”

“You don’t even drink coffee!” Ymir snapped.

“I don’t care, it’s part of my Christmas gift! And Sasha drinks coffee, so I’ll use it on her.”

Ymir folded her arms again. “Fine,” she grumped.

There were a few moments of awkward silence. “These are really nice, Ymir,” Connie thanked her sincerely, “It means a lot.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just make sure your hands don’t freeze.”

He paused. “Should… should we, you know… hug, or something?”

Ymir’s lip curled. “God, no. What are you, gay?”

“Fine,” he scoffed, and they both turned to walk away.

Connie paused on the stairs and looked back. “Hey, Ymir… Merry Christmas.”

She turned to look at him, and a smile with genuine warmth found its way to her face. “Merry Christmas, Connie.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two probably won't be ready until after Christmas, unfortunately, so expect it some time around next week.
> 
> Next on A Very Attack on Titan Christmas, we get to see Holidays spent with some FAMILIES! (Prepare for OCs galore oh god don't fuck this up)


	7. Announcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A PSA from the author

Hello, everyone! I hate to make an "announcement chapter" like this; it feels super tacky to me, but I felt it was necessary. I'll delete it later.

Okay, since it's been nearly two months since the last chapter it probably looks as if I've given up on this fic, but I swear I haven't! Due to a huge writer's block I ended up taking a month-long hiatus, but I've resumed work on chapter 7 and it's going along smoothly now! It's still probably gonna be a bit of a wait, since... well frankly it's a _monster_ of a chapter, definitely the longest one yet.

And yes... since chapter 6 was A Very Attack on Titan Christmas part 1, chapter 7 will be A Very Attack on Titan Christmas part 2. Nothing like Christmas fic in late February, right? (I can't believe I atually thought I was gonna have both chapters done by Christmas.)

And at any rate, I've made a couple small edits to previous chapters (really minor stuff, probably not worth checking out), and I've added a hand-drawn diagram of how I envision the house's floor plan to chapter 2! You should definitely check that out.

I dunno how many people really follow this fic closely, but I just feel like an apology is in order for the long wait. I'm working hard on this next chapter, I promise!


	8. ANNOUNCEMENT NUMBER 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another PSA from the author

Man, I feel like crap about this you guys

Again, I don't know how many people actually follow this fic, but it's been an inexcusably long time since I've updated.

And to be honest, it'll probably be a long time still. I've started work on another snk fic, and this one will be sitting on the backburner probably until that one is finished. I really hate to put it on hiatus with part one of a chapter posted and part two only half-written, but I need to write where the inspiration is, and right now that's not this fic.

I'm not giving up on it though! There are still other stories I want to tell, but this was never meant to be a very cohesive fic; it was meant more to be a collection of small fun stories to keep me writing until inspiration for something bigger came up, which it has. Eventually I'll finish that motherf*cking christmas chapter, and after that I'll pop in a chapter or two in here every now and then.

As for the other fic, progress has been extremely slow in terms of writing it (I'm the world's worst writing procrastinator), but I have the whole plot mapped out. I haven't decided yet whether I want to post it chapter-by-chapter as I write them, or if I want to wait until I have the entire thing written and then post the chapters all at once in order to avoid gigantic waits like this one. I'll have to see if I can pick up more momentum in my writing.

As for what the fic will actually be, I can tell you it'll feature nearly all of the snk characters, and it'll be an AU involving magic in a modern setting. I'm really really excited for it in my head, but I need to turn that into writing motivation!! Keep your eyes peeled for it!

Anyway, I'm really sorry about this one and I'm sorry I waited so long to tell you guys. My inspiration shifted like a week after I made that last announcement about having regained my mojo for writing part 2 of the christmas chapter, so that ended up being kind misleading, sorry.

I do promise you haven't seen the last of me though!

All the best <3


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